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THE   ROMANCES  OF  ALEXANDRE   DUMAS. 

CUustrateft   iLtbrarg   Edition. 
New  Series,  II. — Vol.  V. 


SYLYAIS'DIKE. 


Jeeiy^nfi^-^.  Jc 


Monsieur  de  Royancour/'s  Note. 


^Ijc  liomanccs;  of  0lrranDrc  HDuma0. 

NEW  SERIES.  — II. 


SYLVANDIRE. 


BY 


ALEXANDRE  DUMAS. 


BOSTON; 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

1898. 


Copyright,  1897, 
By  Little,  Bkown,  and  Company. 


All  rights  reserved. 


STljis  EBitton  is  ILimttfli  to  ©ne  ^Tljousanli  doptes. 
N0....U2A.Z 


University  Press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 


"  The  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,"  says  M.  Arsfene  Hous- 
saye,^  "  is  divided  into  three  periods,  dominated  by 
three  influences,  —  three  stars,  three  women. 

"The  first  is  the  epoch  of  half-Spanish,  half- 
French  gallantry.  It  is  personified  in  Mademoiselle 
de  la  Vallifere.  .  .  . 

"  The  second  period  of  the  reign  is  symbolized  by 
Madame  de  Montespan,  .  .  .  who  exults  in  being 
queen  by  grace  of  Love.  With  her  opens  the  mili- 
tary epic,  the  era  of  conquest.  The  tendency  is  to 
materialism  of  the  heart,  to  paganism  of  sentiment. 
...  It  is  the  age  of  action,  of  maturity,  of  strength. 
Everything  yields  to  the  victorious  king,  — •  citadels 
and  women. 

"  The  third  and  last  part  of  the  reign  is  summed 
up  in  Madame  de  Maintenon.  Sensual  mysticism 
has  replaced  the  pomp  and  activity  of  the  old  court. 
The  dying  century  becomes  a  hermit,  glory  takes 
the  veil.  .  .  .  Louis  XIV.,  that  king  over  whom  a 
woman  reigns,  droops  slowly  toward  his  grave.  .  .  . 
Madame  de  Maintenon  is  the  hand  by  which  the 
Gallican  church  sways  the  old  age  of  Louis  XIV. 
1  "  Galerie  du  XVIIP'  Siecle.  —  La  Eegence  " 


VI  INTRODUCTORY   NOTE. 

Quietism  offends  the  shrewd,  powerful,  intriguing 
woman,  who  bears,  not  without  dignity,  the  weight 
of  the  crown.  That  uncrowned  queen  gives  its 
shape,  as  they  said  in  those  days,  to  the  close  of 
the  reign.  .  .  .  Everything  assumes  the  mask  of 
piety." 

And  again  he  says :  "  If  his  youth  was  imprisoned 
in  the  dense  forest  of  the  passions,  as  Saint  Augus- 
tine hath  it,  his  old  age  was  confined  behind  bolts 
and  bars  in  an  impenetrable  citadel,  of  which  Scar- 
rou's  widow  was  the  keeper.  There  are  no  more 
abject  slaves  than  tyrants." 

It  would  be  easy  to  multiply  authorities  in  sup- 
port of  the  accuracy  of  the  picture  drawn  by  Dumas 
in  these  pages  of  the  state  of  society  in  the  first 
decade  of  the  eighteenth  century,  when,  under  the 
leadership  of  the  incompetent  generals  who  owed 
their  commissions  to  their  subservience  to  "  Scar- 
rou's  widow,"  France  was  struggling  on,  from  defeat 
to  defeat,  from  Blenheim  to  Eamillies  and  Turin  and 
Oudenarde  and  Malplaquet,  through  the  bloody,  dis- 
astrous years  of  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession. 

It  was  the  period  of  the  "goA'ernment  of  the 
saints."  ^  From  the  fall  of  Louvois  in  1691,  Madame 
de  Maintenon's  influence  was  practically  unlim- 
ited and  unshared  until  after  the  crushing  disaster 
of  Blenheim  (1704),  when  she  was  obliged  to  come 
to  terms,  and,  to  some  extent,  share  her  power  with 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  and  his  governors,  the  Dues 
de  Chevreuse  and  de  Beauvilliers,  and  with  the 
king's  confessor,  "  a  hard-hearted,  atrabilious  old 
1  Michelet. 


INTRODUCTOEY   NOTE,  Vll 

villain,  Yhre  Tellier,  whose  bitter  gall  made  the 
whites  of  his  squinting  eyes  yellow." 

Versailles  was  a  gloomy  place  during  the  suprem- 
acy of  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  her  Jesuit  allies, 
and  that  supremacy  endured  until  the  death  of  the 
king  in  1715,  when  the  accession  to  power  of  the 
pleasure-loving,  easy-going  Eegent  inaugurated  an 
era  of  license  and  immorality.  Not  only  was  the 
power  of  the  favorite  shown  in  the  repression  of 
gayety  and  amusement  in  every  form,  but  her  favor 
and  that  of  the  ultra-religious  faction  counted  for 
vastly  more  than  the  patronage  of  the  greatest 
nobles  in  the  distribution  of  lucrative  offices  and 
of  commissions  in  the  army  and  navy.  However 
great  a  man's  merit  might  be,  his  chance  of  prefer- 
ment or  promotion  was  small,  unless  he  were  re- 
signed to  the  necessity  of  going  to  Versailles  with 
a  sanctimonious  expression  on  his  face,  and  kissing 
La  Maintenon's  withered  hand. 

The  episode  of  the  chevalier's  arrest  and  impris- 
onment is  entirely  consistent  with  the  customs  of 
the  time.  The  history  of  the  Bastile  is  full  of  in- 
stances which  vouch  for  its  probability.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  the  one  fact  which  more  than  any 
other  drew  the  attention  of  the  Parisian  populace 
to  the  grim  old  fortress  in  1789  was  the  recent 
release  of  one  Latude,  who  had  been  confined  there 
for  more  than  forty  years  upon  no  ascertainable 
charge,  but  presumably  to  gratify  the  enmity  of 
some  powerful  family  or  individual.  During  the 
first  fifteen  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  no  more 
heinous  offence  could  be  committed  than  to  speak 


7111  INTRODUCTORY   NOTE. 

or  write  slightingly  of  the  old  king's  unacknowl- 
edged wife,  nor  could  any  surer  way  of  ruining  an 
enemy  be  devised  than  to  bring  to  her  notice  evi- 
dence of  such  sacrilege. 

In  his  "Mdmoires"  (vol.  9),  Dumas  tells  us  of  his 
first  venture  in  the  domain  of  historical  romance. 
Soon  after  the  founding  of  the  "Revue  des  Deux 
Mondes,"^  he  contributed  to  that  periodical  certain 
"  Scenes  Historiques "  relating  to  the  reign  of 
Charles  VI.,  adapted  from  Barante's  "Histoire  des 
Dues  de  Bourgogne,"  and  afterwards  published 
under  the  title  "Isabel  de  Bavi^re."  He  tells  us 
that  he  was  utterly  ignorant  of  French  history 
until  he  read  Barante's  book,  but  that  the  success 
of  his  "  Scenes  Historiques,"  which  made  one  of  the 
first  successes  of  the  "Revue  des  Deux  Mondes," 
led  him  to  decide  to  write  a  series  of  romances 
extending  from  the  reign  of  Charles  VI.  to  our  own 
time.  How  nearly  he  accomplished  his  design  the 
volumes  previously  published  in  this  series  will 
sufficiently  show.  There  is,  however,  a  hiatus  be- 
tween the  conclusion  of  the  "Vicomte  de  Brage- 
lonne"2  and  the  "Chevalier  d'Harmental,"  the 
action  of  which  takes  place  in  the  early  years  of 
the  Regency,  about  1717.  That  hiatus  the  pres- 
ent volume  serves  partially  to  fill. 

^  In  18.30  or  1831  the  periodical  called  "Journal  des  Voyages" 
was  purchased  by  M.  Buloz  and  others,  who  changed  its  name  as 
well  as  its  character,  and  called  it  the  "  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes." 

2  The  death  of  D'Artagnan  seems  to  have  occurred  between 
1680  and  1690. 


LIST   OF  CHARACTERS. 

Period,  1708-1716. 


Louis  XIV.,  King  of  France. 

Madame  de  Mainxenon. 

Marquis  de  Royancourt,  a  favorite  of  Madame  de  Mainteuon. 

Pere  Letellier. 

Baron  Agenor  Palamede  d'Anguilhem. 

La  Baronne  CornI;lie  Athenais  d'Anguilhem,  his  wife. 

Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede  d'Anguilhem,  their  son. 

Abbe  Dubuquoi,  tutor  to  the  Chevalier. 

The  Mother  Superior  of  the  Convent  of  the  Augustines, 

the  Chevalier's  aunt. 
VicoMTE  DE  BouzENOis,  a  relative  of  Baron  d'Anguilhem, 
Madame  de  Bouzenois,  his  wife,  a  native  of  Malabar. 
Monsieur  Afghano,  her  son,  an  East  Indian. 
Marquis  de  Chemille,   1 

Monsieur  Gantry,  r  friends  of  Baron  d'Anguilhem. 

Monsieur  de  Birgarou,  ) 

VicoMTE  de  Beuzerie,  a  neighbor  of  Baron  d'Anguilhem. 
Madame  de  Beuzerie,  his  wife. 
Constance  de  Beuzerie,   their  daughter,   in  love   with  the 

Chevalier. 
Mademoiselle  Herminie  de  Narcey,  friend  to  Constance. 
Henri  de  Narcey,  her  brother. 
The  CuRi  of  La  Chapelle  Saint-Hippolyte. 
Maitre  Coquenard,  attorney  to  Baron  d'Anguilhem. 
Marquis  de  Crette,  friend  to  the  Chevalier. 


X  LIST   OF   CHARACTERS. 

ViCOMTE  D'IIerBIGNY,  ^ 

COMTE  m  CilASTKLLUX,  /    ^^-^^^^^  ^^  ^^  -^  ^^  ^^.^^^^ 

Monsieur  de  liiivii.LE,  I 

ClIEVALlEK  DE  CluS- UeNAUI),  ) 

Basc^ue,  valet  tu  iMarquis  dc  Crette. 
iiUISJULl,  ^ 

Kameau-d'oh,  >  bcrvauts  to  the  Marquis. 

Petitpas,         J 

BiiETON,  servant  to  the  Chevalier. 

Messieuks  de  KoLLiNSKi,  Hungarian  gentlemen. 

COMTE  DE  GoRKAUN,  ?.!•<••       j 

T,  ?  their  iriends. 

Monsieur  de  Bardane,  > 

Mademoiselle  Poussette,  of  the  Comedie-Franpaise. 

Maitre  Branchu,      >    j        i 
,.  ,        ^^  >  advocates. 

Maitre  Verniquet,  > 

Maitre  Jean  Amedee  Bouteau,  conseiller-rapporieur. 

Christine  Sylvandire  Bouteau,  his  daughter. 

The  Governor  of  Por-l'^v^que. 

CoMTE  d'Olibarus,  a  prisoner  at  Por-l'Iilveque  and  the  Bastile. 

Monsieur  Voyer  d'Argenson,  lieutenant  of  police. 

An  Agent  of  Maitre  Bouteau. 

A  Sardinian  Broker. 

A  Tunisian  Corsair. 

Mesdemoisell^  Marie  and  Gothon,  servants  in  the  household 

of  Baron  d'Anguilheni. 

Lajeunesse,  the  Baron  d'Anguilhem's  gamekeeper. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Monsieur  de  Royancouut's  Note    ....      Frontispiece 

Drawn  by  J.  Wagrez,  etched  by  Teauuin. 

Louis  XIV Page  282 

From  an  old  engraving. 

Madame  de  Maintenon 322 

From  an  old  engraving. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapteb  Page 

I.    The  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede  d'Angtjilhem 
AND  HIS  Family,  in  the  Year  of  Our  Lord 

1708 1 

II.  How  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem,  whom  some 
of  the  Dames  of  Loches  and  its  Vicinity 
called  "Handsome  Roger,"  others,  "Hand- 
some Tancrede,"  discovered  that  he  had 
a  Heart 21 

III.  How  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem,  discovering 

THAT  He  had  a  Heart,  wished  to  be  as- 
sured THAT  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  also 
HAD  One 36 

IV.  In    which    the    Author    demonstrates    that 

Fathers  and  Mothers  of  Daughters  in 
Convents  can  sleep  on  Both  Ears  ...  54 
V.  How  THE  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  escaped 
FROM  THE  College  of  the  Jesuits  at  Am- 
BOisE,  with  the  Intention  of  carrying  off 
Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie,  and  what  News 
he  learned  on  beaching  the  Convent  .  .  72 
VI.  In  which  we  are  told  that  the  Chevalier 
d'Anguilhem  was  so  overwhelmed  with 
Grief  at  the  Death  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Beuzerie  th^t  He  resolved  to  become  a 
Jesuit 92 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

C'HAl'TER  PaOK 

\  ii.     llow  Madejioisklle  de  Beuzeeie  appeared 

HEFOKE  THE  ClIEVALIER  d'AnGUILHEM  TO 
DISSUADE  IllM  FROM  TAKING  THE  VoWS  .  104 
VIII.  How  IT  WAS  LEARNED  AT  AngUILHEM  AND 
AT  BeUZEUIE  that  THE  ViCOMTE  DE 
BOUZENOIS,  Ex-CaPTAIN  of  THE  Frigate 
Thetis,  had  Died  Intestate,  and 
WHAT  Modification  the  News  wrought 
in  the  Plans  of  the  Two  Families    .     .     115 

IX.     How   AND   on   what  Terms  the  Marriage 

of  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzekie  with  the 

Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  came  near  being 

arranged  by  their  Next  of  Kin  .     .     .     127 

X.     How  THE  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  made  his 

Entry  into  Society 140 

XI.     How   the  Chevalier  profits  by  the  Fen- 
cing   Lessons  given  Him  by  the  Baron 

d'Anguilhem,  his  Father 161 

XII.  How  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  becomes 
acquainted  with  the  Son  of  the  East 
Indian,  and  the  Kind  of  Person  he 
finds  Him  to  be 175 

XIII.  How,   just   as  the   Chevalier   had   fallen 

a  Prey  to  the  Profoundest  Despair,  a 
Stranger  visited  Him  to  make  a  Propo- 
sition not  expected  by  Him,  nor  by  the 
Reader 192 

XIV.  How  the  Mysterious  Man  appears  a  Sec- 

ond Time,  and  how,  in  this  Second  In- 
terview, Matters  seem  a  little  clearer     201 

XV.     How  the  Judgment  was  given 215 

XVI.  How  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  philo- 
sophically resigns  Himself  to  a  Pretty 
Wife,  a  Magnificent  Hotel,  and  an  In- 
come OF  Seventy-five  Thousand  Livres  227 
XVII.  How  THE  Chevalier  found  Himself  in 
such    Luck    that    he    was  ready,    like 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


iHAPTES  Page 

POLYCRATES,    THE    TyKANT    OF    SaMOS,    TO 

CAST  A  Ring  into  the  Sea      ....     23G 
XVin.    How  THE  Conjugal  Horizon  of  the  Cheva- 
lier d'Anguilhem  gradually  clouded 
OVER 246 

XIX.  How  the  Conjugal  Horizon  of  the  Cheva- 
lier    d'Anguilhem      grew     suddenly 

TEMPESTUOUS o       ...       257 

XX.     Finding  that  Permission  to  leave  is  not 

GRANTED  HiM,  THE  ChEVALIER  d'AnGUIL- 
HEM  resolves  TO  LEAVE  WITHOUT  PER- 
MISSION       269 

XXI.  How  THE  King  neglected  to  repair  the 
Injustice  done  the  Chevalier  d'An- 
guilhem, AND  WHAT  followed  .  .  .  282 
XXII.  How  THE  King  at  last  remembers  the 
Chevalier  d'Anguilhem,  and  what 
COMES  OF  It 297 

XXIII.  How   THE    Chevalier  d'Anguilhem   went 

FROM  THE  BaSTILE  TO  THE  CHATEAU  DE 
ChaLON-SUR-SaONE,        and        MADE        THE 

Journey  in  Company  with  an  Officer 

OF  VERY  Sprightly  Character    .     .     .     316 

XXIV.  How  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  becomes 

as  Wise  and  as  Wary  as  had  been  the 

Late  Comte  d'Olibarus 328 

XXV.  How  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  set  Fire 
TO  HIS  Hotel  to  find  out  whether 
He  was  or  was  not  what  He  feared  .     342 

XXVI.  How     Hoger    and    Sylvandire    made    a 

Charming  Excursion  to  Provence,  and 
WHAT  came  of  It 357 

XXVII.  How  THE  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  learned 

THAT  HIS  Father  had  not  delivered 
TO  Mademoiselle  de  Eeuzerie  the 
Letter  restoring  her  Freedom,  and 
what  came  of  It  .     .     .  ....     372 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

Cbafteb  Paob 

XXVIII.  How  TiTK  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  and 
Mademoiselle  Constance  de  Bedzerie 
find  tuemselves  moke  in  love  than 
ever,  and  some  of  the  perplexities 
INTO  WHICH  Roger  is  thereby  plunged  385 
XXIX  How  the  Persian  Ambassador,  Mehemet 
RiZA  Beg,  came  to  Paris  to  present 
THE  Respectful  Compliments  of  uis 
Sovereign  to  Louis  XIV.,  and  how 
THE  Chevalier  d'Anguiliiem  was  con- 
strained TO  pay  a  Visit  to  that  Il- 
lustrious Personage 398 

XXX.  How  the  Marquis  de  Crette  negotiated 
Matters  in  the  Name  of  the  Cheva- 
lier d'Anguilhem,  and  brought  this 
Entire   Story  to  a  most  Unexpected 

Issue 412 

Conclusion 425 


SYLVANDIRE. 


I. 


THE    CHEVALIER    ROGER   TANCR^DE   d'ANGUILHEM   AND 
HIS    FAMILY    IN    THE    YEAR    OF    OUR    LORD    1708. 

In  a  work  much  more  serious  than  this  one  pretends  to 
be,  we  have  shown  how  the  French  nobility  were 
marked  for  destruction  by  three  men :  Louis  XI. , 
Richelieu,  Kobespierre.  Louis  XI.  felled  the  feudal 
lords,  Richelieu  laid  low  the  grandees,  Robespierre  cut 
down  the  aristocracy. 

The  first  paved  the  way  for  the  centralized  monarchy, 
the  second  for  the  absolute  monarchy,  the  third  for  the 
constitutional  monarchy. 

But,  as  the  events  we  are  about  to  relate  took  place 
between  the  years  1708  and  1716,  we  shall  permit 
history  to  appraise,  under  their  social  bearings,  the 
work  of  the  forester  king  and  the  acts  and  deeds  of  the 
guillotining  tribune,  and  merely  cast  a  swift  glance 
over  the  condition  of  Paris  and  the  country  at  large 
seventy  years  after  the  death  of  Richelieu,  that  is, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

In  saying  Paris,  we  mistake,  —  we  should  say  Ver- 
sailles, for  at  that  period  Paris  was  forgotten.  Louis 
XIV.  had  never  been  able  to  pardon  the  capital  for 
1 


2  SYLVANDIRE. 

having  cast  liiin,  child  as  lie  was,  from  her  hosom  dur- 
ing one  of  thfi  stormy  days  of  the  Fronde,  and  as,  in  his 
fulness  of  miglit,  he  took  the  same  pleasure  in  avenging 
himself  upon  things  as  upon  men,  he  had  created  Ver- 
sailles,—  that  unworthy  favorite,  as  it  was  then  called, 
that  gigantic  piece  of  folly,  as  it  will  in  all  times  be 
called,  —  with  intent  to  punish  the  old  Louvre  for  its 
old-time  rebellion  by  withdrawing  his  royal  presence. 

So  Versailles,  from  the  day  when  Louis  XIV.  trans- 
ferred his  residence  thitlier,  was  the  luminous  centre  of 
the  realm,  the  torch  about  which  all  the  gilded  moths 
called  courtiers  gatliered  to  scorch  their  wings,  the  sun 
which  rose  on  the  world,  not  less  resplendent  than 
others,  and  whose  light  and  power  must  increase  as  it 
advanced.^ 

Thus,  the  concentration  of  immeasurable  splendor 
upon  Versailles  reduced  the  rest  of  the  kingdom  to  dark- 
ness. All  that  did  not  revolve  around  the  supreme  star 
seemed  to  belong  to  an  inferior  system,  an  unknown 
vortex  not  worth  while  for  the  political  astronomers  of 
the  time  to  investigate;  as  a  result,  during  the  seventy- 
three  years  that  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  endured,  the 
history  of  Versailles  is  pretty  nearl}'  the  history  of 
France. 

Consequently,  in  the  magnificent  gallery  opened  up 
by  the  memoirs  of  that  period  to  the  curiosity  of  read- 
ers, one  reviews  nothing  but  great  fortunes  and  great 
failures.  We  follow  the  rise  of  Louvois,  of  Villars,  of 
d'Argenson,  of  Colbert,  and  the  fall  of  Eohan,  of  Kiche- 
lieu,  of  Lauzun,  and  the  Guises;  but,  as  for  the  brave 
and  loyal  nobility  of  the  provinces  that  formerly  consti- 
tuted   the     strength    of    the    monarchy,    which    under 

^  Nee  })Iuribus  impar  and  Vires  acrjuirit  eundo  formed  the  double 
device  of  the  sun  which  Louis  XIV.  had  taken  for  his  arms. 


CHEVALIEK   D'ANGUILHEM   AND   FAMILY.  3 

Duguesclin  ha<l  driven  the  Black  Prince  from  Guyenne, 
and,  under  Joan  of  Arc,  King  Henri  VI.  from  France, 
it  no  longer  existed,  or,  rather,  because  from  the  field  of 
action  it  gave  no  signs  of  life,  one  might  say  it  had 
ceased  to  exist. 

As  a  fact,  far  from  the  sun,  and  consequently  from 
the  light,  it  was  vegetating  in  darkness  and  oblivion. 

Had  the  choice  of  the  subject  been  ours,  we  should 
without  any  doubt  have  established  our  hero  among  those 
fine  courtiers  whom  Saint  Simon  exhibits  as  assisting 
regularly  every  day  at  the  king's  rising  and  retiring,  un- 
settled by  a  frown,  flourishing  under  a  smile,  and  dying 
of  despair  at  a  sharp  word;  but,  first  of  all,  we  are  a 
historian,  hence  we  must  take  our  hero  where  we  find 
him.  Besides,  the  time  may  come  when,  attached  as  we 
are  to  his  suite,  we  shall  find  ourselves  obliged  to  accom- 
pany him  outside  of  his  provincial  obscurity,  and  appear 
with  him  for  a  brief  space  in  that  circle  of  light  which 
Versailles,  even  at  that  period  of  decadence,  was  still 
shedding  around  her. 

But  for  the  present,  we  beg  our  readers  to  forego  Ver- 
sailles, which,  for  that  matter,  Madame  de  Maintenon's 
presence  had  for  some  time  rendered  a  very  dull  place 
of  abode,  and  accompany  us  two  hundred  and  thirty-two 
kilometres  from  Paris,  as  the  new  law  compels  us  to  say. 
Four  kilometres  forming  a  league,  our  readers  will  have 
only  to  divide  two  hundred  and  thirty-two  by  four,  if 
they  insist  upon  knowing  their  exact  distance  from  the 
capital.  We  should  prefer  to  spare  them  that  trouble ; 
but,  as  we  are  made  to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty  francs  every 
time  we  employ  the  old  denominations,  we  are  obliged 
by  stress  of  economy  to  refer  them  to  the  fourth  arith- 
metical rule;  it  is  very  awkward,  but  this  is  the  way 
of  it. 


4  SYLVANDIRE. 

We  find  onrsolvos,  tlicii,  on  tlie  left  Lank  of  the  Loire, 
in  tlio  iicigliliorliood  of  tlie  town  of  Loches,  in  a  beau- 
tiful plain  between  the  Indre  and  the  Cher,  interspersed 
witli  woods  pretentiously  called  forests,  and  pools 
ostentatiously  spoken  of  as  lakes. 

This  plain  was  a  veritable  nest  of  country-seats, 
where  vegetated  the  remnants  of  all  those  lordly  families 
from  which  Louis  XI.  had  liacked  the  roots  and  Kiche- 
lieu  lopped  the  heads;  also,  thanks  to  tlio  destruction 
of  chateaux,  the  confiscation  of  lands,  and  the  restric- 
tion of  privileges,  all  those  brave  country  gentlemen, 
high-born  as  Charlemagne,  were  as  poor  as  Job.  Robber- 
chiefs  of  old  under  Philip  Augustus  and  Louis  XI. , 
heads  of  factions  under  Philip  the  Fair  and  Charles  V., 
captains  under  Francois  I.  and  Henri  II.,  they  had 
ended  by  becoming  ensigns  or  sergeants  in  the  armies  of 
Henri  IV.  and  Louis  XIII. ;  then,  last  of  all,  no  longer 
finding  employment,  even  in  the  lowest  ranks  of  the 
army,  for  the  old  swords  of  their  ancestors,  upon  which 
rust  had  by  degrees  effaced  the  gilding,  they  had  returned 
to  the  primitive  times  of  which  the  Bible  speaks,  and, 
like  Nimrod,  had  become  mighty  hunters  before  the 
Lord.  In  short,  they  were,  as  we  have  seen,  the  de- 
scendants of  the  oldest,  the  richest,  and  the  noblest 
families  in  France;  but,  it  must  be  admitted,  they  were 
in  every  respect  very  degenerate  descendants. 

In  fact,  the  great  landholders  had  gradually  been 
attracted  to  Versailles,  and  old  Touraine  of  the  magnifi- 
cent chateaux  had  emigrated  with  all  its  goods  and 
chattels  to  the  neighborhoods  of  Chartres  and  Main- 
tenon.  Undergoing  the  universal  decay,  Loches  had 
ceased  to  be  a  royal  town,  and  the  country  squires  of 
the  region,  inhabiting  a  rich,  peaceful,  but  forsaken 
country,  however   they   may    have    combated   the    sov- 


CHEVALIEK   D'ANGUILHEM  AND   FAMILY.  5 

ereignty  of  silence  and  oblivion  during  the  last  days,  had 
felt  the  pall  of  obscurity  gradually  settle  down  upon 
their  heads. 

Men  submit  to  such  a  state  of  affairs ,  but  they  do  not 
become  resigned.  As  a  result,  throughout  the  entire 
province  there  was  at  this  time  a  sullen  reaction  against 
the  government  of  the  mighty  king.  Thus,  our  gentle- 
men, led  by  their  wounded  self-esteem  into  the  movement 
of  general  disaffection  just  mentioned,  filled  the  places 
of  absent  things  with  names  which  recalled  them.  Their 
houses  continued  to  be  designated  chateaux;  the  outer 
walls  were  ramparts,  and  the  muddy  ditch  where  a  dozen 
tame  ducks  paddled  was  a  moat;  there  was  a  court  of 
honor,  the  sole  and  only  court;  they  spoke  of  the 
armory,  but  its  stores  were  ordinarily  fruit  or  milk; 
lastly,  there  was  the  chapel,  and  it  was  just  the  nearest 
village  church,  in  most  cases  reached  only  after  an 
hour's  tramp  through  the  fields. 

However,  setting  aside  vanity,  and  excluding  the 
relation  between  names  and  their  values,  all  these 
country-seats  might  have  been  bowers  of  happiness,  had 
their  inhabitants  not  thought  it  humiliation  to  acknowl- 
edge they  were  happy.  Their  vanity,  it  is  true,  en- 
trenched itself  behind  their  disaffection,  and,  too  poor 
to  go  to  Versailles,  they  proclaimed  aloud  that  they  had 
but  a  low  opinion  of  the  court,  and  that  overtures  were 
continually  made  them,  only  to  be  repelled.  ISTow, 
since  all  repeated  the  same  thing,  they  were  certainly 
under  mutual  obligations  to  appear  to  believe  one  an- 
other. Of  course  this  petty  defection  did  not  get  beyond 
the  boundaries  of  the  province,  and,  for  the  fifty  or 
sixty  years  during  which  it  was  perpetuated  as  a  legacy 
from  father  to  son,  it  never  reached  the  king's  ears. 

Moreover,  in    this   little    corner  of   the  earth  which 


6  SYLVANDIRE. 

foriiKMl  part  of  what  is  called  the  garden  of  France,  a 
gentleman  with  an  income  of  two  thousand  crowns  passed 
lor  opulent;  and  very  few  indeed  were  the  incomes  that 
reached  this  desirable  figure.  Tlie  majority  of  the 
martyrs  possessed  an  average  income  of  from  twenty-five 
hundred  to  three  thousand  livres,  and  a  few  who  were 
reduced  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  pistoles 
a  year,  still  found  means,  in  spite  of  this  slender  income, 
to  figure  not  too  disadvantageously,  with  their  families, 
Avhich  were  sometimes  numerous,  at  the  gatherings  of 
neighboring  country-seats. 

Furthermore,  all  these  brave  lords,  or  their  ancestors 
rather,  had  formerly  enjoyed  magnificent  and  very  com- 
prehensive rights  which  in  course  of  time  had  fallen 
into  disuse ;  but  this  fact,  when  they  chanced  to  shake 
out  their  crumpled  parchments,  and  read  over  their 
charters,  did  not  prevent  their  experiencing  a  certain 
pride  in  the  fact  that  they  might  do  unspeakable  things, 
and  that  they  possessed  the  privileges  of  a  Procrustes,  a 
Geryon,  or  a  Phalaris.  Thus,  a  petty  farmer  of  the 
Baron  Agenor  Palamede  d'Anguilhem  was  one  day  very 
much  startled  to  hear  his  lord  and  master  proclaim  at  a 
wolf -hunt,  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot,  — 

"By  a  charter  right  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the 
Anguilhems  may,  once  a  year,  at  the  chase,  warm  their 
feet  in  the  vitals  of  one  of  their  dependents  ripped  open 
by  their  carver, " 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  neither  the  worthy  gen- 
tleman nor  any  of  his  ancestors  had  ever  had  such  cold 
feet  as  to  feel  the  need  of  resorting  to  this  strange 
expedient. 

As  the  Baron  d'Anguilhem's  name  has  just  slipped 
from  our  pen,  let  us  profit  by  the  occasion  to  say  who 
and  what  he  was. 


CHEVALIEK   d'ANGUILHEM   AND   FAMILY.  7 

The  Baron  Agenor  Palamede  d'Aiiguilhem  was  one  of 
the  suzerain  landholders  whose  fortunes  we  have  just 
figured  up,  and  whose  privileges  we  have  enumerated. 
He  inhabited  a  chdteau  in  the  upper  part  of  the  valley, 
possessed  sixty  sheep  and  six  cows,  sold  the  wool  for 
two  hundred  francs  a  year,  and  harvested  three  hundred 
francs'  worth  of  hemp  in  the  same  length  of  time,  in  all 
five  hundred  francs,  which  he  generously  handed  over  to 
Madame  la  Baronne  d' Anguilhem  for  the  expenses  of  her 
toilet  and  the  bringing  up  of  her  son. 

Madame  la  Baronne  Cornelie  Athenais  d' Anguilhem 
had  only  six  gowns,  but  they  were  each,  if  not  perfectly 
fashionable,  at  least  exquisitely  beautiful.  One  dated 
from  her  wedding,  another  from  the  christening  of  her 
son,  who  was  by  courtesy  styled  baronet,  although,  in 
the  aristocratic  hierarchy,  he  had  a  right  only  to  the 
title  of  chevalier,  which  title  simply  we  shall  give 
him,  not  being  influenced  by  the  motives  of  flattery 
that  prompted  those  who  surrounded  him.  As  for  the 
baroness'  other  four  dresses,  they  were  of  more  recent 
date  and  more  modern  cut;  yet  this  did  not  prevent 
their  having  seen  at  least  two  lustres,  which  had  de- 
tracted a  trifle  du  letir,^  as  the  bantering  Marquis  de 
Chemille,  their  neighbor  two  leagues  away,  used  to  say 
in  a  witticism  replete  with  novelty  and  taste. 

The  baronet,  or  rather,  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede 
d'Anguilhem,  heir  presumptive  to  the  domains  of 
Anguilhem,  La  Pintade,  and  La  Guerite,  that  is  to  say, 
to  sixty  acres  of  tillable  land,  twenty  acres  of  woodland, 
and  an  orchard  planted  out  to  cabbages,  was  entering 
upon  his  fifteenth  year.  He  was  a  tall,  handsome  lad, 
who  was  able  to  course  a  hare  very  prettily  upon  his 

1  A  play  on  the  word  leur,  "them,"  and  leurre,  "lure,"  "decoy." 
—  Tr. 


8  SYLVAN  DIRE. 

own  legs,  and  shot  like  Mattre  Lajeunesse,  tlie  keeper 
of  the  harony,  with  the  reputation  of  killing  nineteen 
snipe  out  of  twenty.  He  rode  bareback  the  wildest 
horses  in  the  country,  and  for  ten  leagues  around  had 
the  reputation  of  being  a  veritable  centaur.  Finally ,  from 
the  day  he  was  five  years  of  age,  the  memorable  time 
when  the  Baron  Agenor  had  placed  a  little  rai)ier  in  his 
hands,  he  had  not  a  single  day  missed  fencing  for  an 
hour  or  two  Avith  his  father,  Avho  was  one  of  the  strongest 
blades  of  the  province,  although,  thanks  to  his  reinita- 
tion,  he  had  never  had  serious  occasion  to  draw  the 
sword;  so  that,  advancing  lesson  by  lesson,  step  by 
step,  stroke  by  stroke,  the  tiny  blade  became  a  long 
rapier,  the  Aveak  tendon  a  steel  spring,  the  wavering 
arm  a  rod  of  iron,  and  the  child  a  healthy  fellow  who 
could  stand  all  day  long  at  guard,  the  body  resting  on 
the  left  leg  and  the  wrist  on  a  level  with  the  right 
breast,  which  was  the  first  principle  of  the  method  of 
the  day,  and  which,  let  us  say  in  passing,  was  as  good  as 
another. 

Beyond  these  acquired  advantages,  the  chevalier 
possessed,  as  natural  gifts,  beautiful  blonde  hair,  a 
height  of  five  feet  five  inches  with  a  promise  of  more, 
two  blue  eyes  with  frank,  clear  gaze,  a  pair  of  plump 
rosy  cheeks  on  which  a  light  down  was  beginning  to 
show,  and  an  admirably  turned  leg.  Hence  all  the 
wives  of  the  country  squires  around,  taking  advantage  of 
the  privilege  yet  granted  them  by  his  extreme  youth, 
almost  always  smilingly  greeted  him  either  as  their  hand- 
some Roger  or  their  handsome  Tancrede,  according  as 
their  romantic  fancies  prompted  them  to  choose  for  a 
hero  the  conqueror  of  Sicily  or  the  lover  of  Clorinda. 

So  much  for  his  physical  characteristics;  now  let  us 
turn  to  the  mental. 


CHEVALIER   d'ANGUILHEM   AND    FAMILY.  9 

This,  the  essential  part  of  the  education  of  a  young 
man  appointed  to  the  glory  of  supporting  and  perpetu- 
ating the  name  of  the  Anguilhems,  had  been,  from  the 
day  that  a  son  was  granted  them  by  the  goodness  of  God, 
the  chief  thought  of  both  baron  and  baroness.  Madame 
d'Anguilhem  had  given  the  child  his  first  lessons  in 
reading,  writing,  and  ciphering.  The  cure  of  the 
neighboring  village  had  taught  him  how  to  decline 
nouns  and  conjugate  verbs,  but  that  was  the  limit  of  his 
own  learning,  and,  with  a  frankness  more  creditable  to 
his  honesty  than  to  his  education,  he  had  confessed  that 
he  dared  not  push  on  his  pupil  to  the  seventh.  The 
baron  and  the  baroness  were  then  very  much  embarrassed 
as  to  continuing  the  education  of  their  son,  from  whom 
both  were  resolved  not  to  be  separated  at  his  tender  age, 
when  one  of  their  friends  informed  them  that  a  certain 
Abbe  Dubuquoi,  who  had  just  completed  the  education 
of  one  of  the  richest  heirs  of  Loches,  was  looking  for 
another  pupil  to  perfect.  This  Avas  precisely  what  the 
baron  and  baroness  desired.  Rigid  inqiiiries  were 
made,  all  of  which  proved  favorable  to  the  tutor;  so 
that  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi  was  installed  at  tlie  chateau 
with  a  salary  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  francs,  his  board, 
and  the  pompous  title  of  preceptor  of  the  Chevalier 
d'Anguilhem. 

Now  let  us  say  a  few  words  concerning  the  chateau 
inhabited  by  the  four  personages  whom  we  have  just 
passed  in  review,  one  of  whom,  we  will  no  longer  keep 
secret  from  our  readers,  is  destined  to  become  the  prin- 
cipal hero  of  this  story.  As  may  be  divined,  we  refer 
to  the  youth  whom,  as  we  have  said,  the  ladies  were  in 
the  habit  of  designating  as  "  handsome  Tancrede  "  or 
"handsome  Roger." 

This  chdteau  was  not  exactly  a  chateau;  it  is  true  that 


10  SYLVANDIRE. 

it  was  not  simply  a  house.  By  no  means.  It  was  a 
building  wliicii  held  a  middle  place  between  these  two 
sti'uctui't's,  and  which  might  have  passed  for  a  hand- 
some farmhouse.  This  farmhouse  —  we  adopt  tlio  last 
name,  with  all  respect  to  its  noble  occupants — con- 
tained eight  rooms  in  the  lower  part.  These  rooms 
consisted  of  a  dairy  dignified  l)y  tiio  name  of  armory 
hall,  a  dining-room,  a  salon  adorned  by  three  ancient 
portraits,  scarcely  recognizable,  and  a  modern  one  repre- 
senting an  officer  of  the  king's  navy  in  a  captain's  uni- 
form. We  shall  return  to  this  portrait.  There  was  a 
guard-room  without  guards,  but  ornamented  with  five 
suits  of  armor  which  belonged  to  the  time  when  there 
were  guards;  this  had  become  the  living-room,  and  here 
the  family  assembled.  There  were  four  sleeping-rooms. 
The  kitchen  and  its  accessories  situated  underground, 
and  the  cellars  under  the  kitchen,  ran  the  whole  length 
of  these  eight  apartments.  Finally,  at  one  of  the  four 
corners  of  the  structure  rose  a  tower  of  a  dozen  metres 
in  height,  which  was  called  La  Guerite.  Monsieur  le 
Baron  Agenor  d'Anguilhem  slept  in  the  tower,  and  it 
was  especially  upon  this  tower  that  he  based  his  preten- 
sion to  christen  the  manor-house  with  the  pompous  name 
of  chateau,  a  title,  moreover,  which,  whether  from  habit 
or  politeness,  was  generally  accorded  it  in  the  country, 
and  whicli  we  alone  have  the  bad  grace  to  contest. 

This  cluiteau  was  not  one  of  the  richest  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  Baron  d'Anguilhem  collected  from  the 
farmers  to  whom  his  dependencies  were  rented  the  sum 
of  twelve  hundred  francs.  Now,  since  in  the  country 
every  one's  income  is  known  to  every  one  else,  one  must 
be  resigned  either  to  appearing  as  a  gentleman  of  small 
means  or  to  lying. 

The    baron    lied    remorselessly.       He    professed    to 


CHEVALIER   D'aNGUILHEM   AND   FAMILY.  11 

derive  an  income  of  one  hundred  louis  from  the  war 
funds  and  another  hundred  from  the  king's  privy 
purse.  However,  we  will  not  venture  to  swear  that  he 
affirmed  it;  but  he  caused  it  to  be  said  and  would  have 
had  it  believed.  Yet  it  was  with  this  as  with  the 
disaffection  of  which  we  have  but  just  spoken.  No  one 
was  deceived  about  his  income  of  two  hundred  louis, 
lieuce  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede  d'Anguilhem  did 
not  pass  in  the  province  for  a  great  catch. 

This,  however,  as  can  readily  be  understood,  troubled 
the  young  man  very  little.  He  was  tall,  he  Avas  strong. 
If  he  lacked  horses  of  his  own,  those  of  his  neighbors 
were  at  his  service.  He  had  magnificent  hunting;  for, 
by  tacit  agreement,  each  of  these  worthy  gentlemen ,  too 
restricted  in  territory  had  he  been  obliged  to  keep 
within  the  boundaries  of  his  own  lands,  was  enabled 
to  hunt  over  the  grounds  of  all.  He  construed  his 
Cornelius  Nepos  at  sight,  and,  having  as  yet  no  wants, 
experienced  no  poverty. 

In  truth,  what  did  he  lack?  He  had  a  tutor  Avhom 
he  did  not  exactly  hate,  but  whom  he  nevertheless  re- 
garded as  a  great  superfluity.  On  returning  from  the 
hunt,  thanks  to  the  baroness'  maternal  foresight,  he 
always  found  a  generous  meal,  whose  fragments  he  gave 
to  his  dog.  And  then,  after  that  repast,  a  bed  awaited 
him,  where  he  could,  if  so  minded,  sleep  twelve  hours 
at  a  stretch.  Here  was  wealth,  or  I  am  greatly 
deceived. 

When  Roger  Tancrede  left  the  chateau,  whether  on 
horseback  or  afoot,  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  or  with 
the  Abbe  Dubuquoi  on  his  arm,  the  peasants  working 
in  the  fields  turned  around  to  salute  him,  and  the  young 
gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood  paused  to  shake  hands. 
This  is  the  height  of  the  power  to  which  a  simple  heart 


12  SYLVAXDIRE. 

and  a  pliilosopliical  mind  can  aspire,  or  I  know  nothing 
about  it. 

When  they  entertained  at  the  chateau,  Roger  set  to 
work,  exactly  like  the  two  servants  who  comprised  the 
entire  domestic  service  of  the  house.  Pie  it  was  Avho 
polished  up  the  massive  old  silver  plate  bearing  the 
family  coat  of  arms,  and  helped  the  baroness  prepare  the 
pastry,  which,  like  a  chatelaine  of  the  middle  ages,  she 
did  not  scorn  to  make  with  her  own  hands.  INIore  than 
that,  since  he  was  skilful  as  well  as  strong,  he  was 
especially  charged  with  wiping  certain  Japanese  porce- 
lain which  had  been  preserved  as  relics  through  three 
generations.  As  soon  as  the  guests  arrived,  Roger  Tan- 
crede  put  on  his  best  coat,  which  always  dated  back 
two  or  three  years  at  least,  passed  a  comb  through  his 
beautiful  hair,  which  curled  naturally,  and  gave  his 
hand  to  the  ladies. 

The  baron  and  the  baroness  often  thought  of  their 
dear  son's  future,  and  more  than  once  had  husband  and 
wife  reviewed  all  the  callings  open  to  him.  The  father 
favored  a  military  career;  but  the  baroness  had  pointed 
out  to  her  husband  that  unless  he  were  resigned  to 
burying  the  name  of  the  d'Anguilhems  in  the  lowest 
ranks  of  the  army,  there  was  no  hope  to  look  for  in  that 
quarter,  since  the  future  hero  was  not  rich  enough  to 
maintain  a  regiment.  There  were  indeed  some  excep- 
tional cases  where  the  king  had  solved  the  difficulty  by 
presenting  a  colonel's  commission  and  adding  a  gratuity 
of  one  hundred  thousand  crowns  to  the  commission;  but 
Louis  XIV.  had  bestowed  so  many  favors  of  the  sort  that 
he  had  declared  it  to  be  impossible  for  him  to  bestow 
more  except  on  very  rare  occasions.  Now,  the  king 
had  no  motive  for  setting  aside  this  wise  determination 
in  favor  of  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede.     All  this  is 


CHEVALIER   D'ANGUILHEM   AND   FAMILY.  13 

what  the  baroness  said  aloud  to  her  husband,  when  the 
latter  broaclied  the  subject  in  conversation.  What  she 
said  to  herself  was  that  she  did  not  wish  her  poor  child 
to  be  a  soldier,  since  the  last  of  the  d' Anguilhems  might 
very  easily,  like  any  simple  peasant,  get  a  thrust  from  a 
halberd  in  Flanders,  or  a  shot  from  a  musket  on  the 
banks  of  the  Rliine,  as  frequently  happened  among 
gentlemen  whose  rank  did  not  keep  them  on  the  coast. 

The  baron  then  suggested  a  good  position  in  finance. 
Financiering  even  at  that  period  was  a  business  that 
might  be  engaged  in  without  great  derogation  of  dignity. 
But  how  could  he  secure  this  position  which  it  would 
cost  twice  as  much  to  buy  as  a  regiment,  since  a  regi- 
ment brought  its  colonel  only  honor  and  blows,  while 
a  bank  position  yielded  its  incumbent  good  round  louis 
d'or  1  He  must  renounce,  therefore ,  that  career  restricted 
to  the  favorites  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  Pere  La- 
chaise,  and  Monsieur  de  Maine.  Now,  the  Baron 
d'Anguilhem,  honest  and  straightforward  country  gen- 
tleman that  he  was,  cordially  detested  the  old  woman, 
the  Jesuit,  and  the  bastards.  Hence  there  was  no  great 
chance  in  that  direction,  and  the  baroness  herself,  how- 
ever strong  her  desire  to  see  her  well-beloved  son  occupy 
a  position  that  would  in  nowise  endanger  his  length  of 
days,  was  forced  to  admit  with  a  sigh  and  a  shake  of  the 
head  that  it  would  be  arrant  folly  to  cling  to  such  a 
project. 

The  baron  would  then  revert  to  a  favorite  notion  with 
which  he  deluded  himself  in  his  hours  of  reverie.  This 
was  to  make  a  naval  officer  of  his  son.  The  navy 
offered  a  noble  career,  and  one  in  every  particular  worthy 
of  a  gentleman.  Louis  XIV.  had  made  France  a  mari- 
time power  which  was  beginning  to  counteract  England's 
influence  and  that  of  Holland,  those  two  queens  of  the 


14  SYLVANDIRE. 

ocean  wliom  ho  liad  luon!  than  once  succocdcil  in  hum- 
Lling,  tlie  one  by  means  of  the  other,  wliile  exalting 
himself  at  the  expense  of  both;  but  at  this  point  espe- 
cially, the  baron  encountered  very  lively  opposition  from 
his  wife.  If  she  had  dreaded  a  soldier's  life  for  her 
son,  she  had  greater  reason  to  fear  that  of  a  sailor,  Avho 
had  every  day  to  combat  not  only  the  strength  of  men, 
but  every  caprice  of  the  elements.  Once  only  at  tlie  be- 
ginning of  their  married  life  had  the  baron  and  the 
baroness  visited  a  seaport. 

They  were  at  Brest,  and,  while  taking  a  i-ail,  met 
with  a  squall  so  violent  that  the  bark  wliich  carried 
them  came  near  upsetting  a  hundred  times,  and  it  was 
only  by  a  miracle  of  heaven  that  she  regained  port. 

From  that  date,  Madame  d'xinguilhem,  who,  in  reality, 
was  possessed  of  as  many  nerves  as  a  Parisian  marquise, 
country  woman  though  she  was,  could  not  bear  to  hear 
the  sea  spoken  of.  She  had  constant  visions  of  her  poor 
chevalier  threatened  by  flashes  of  lightning  and  peals  of 
thunder,  tossed  by  the  winds  and  threatened  by  the 
waves,  about  to  be  swallowed  up  in  the  depths  of  that 
liquid  abyss  whose  prophetic  voice  had  forewarned  her^ 
consequently,  when  the  baron  broached  the  subject  after 
a  thousand  circumlocutions,  the  baroness  began  to 
shriek,  and  asked  her  husband  whether,  as  a  recompense 
for  her  exemplary  conduct  toward  him,  he  intended  to 
kill  her  with  grief. 

Then  the  baron,  who  was  an  excellent  man,  would 
in  turn  sigh  profoundly  and  murmur,  — 

"  Madame ,  madame ,  you  are  not  worthy  of  your  name 
of  Cornelia!" 

To  which  the  baroness  would  reply, — 

"  Monsieur,  we  are  not  living  in  the  days  of  the 
Gracchi,  nor  am  I  a  E-oman  matron." 


CHEVALIER  D  ANGUILHEM   AND   FAMILY.  15 

In  truth,  tlie  poor  woman  was  merely  a  good,  tender, 
excellent  mother,  which  was,  perhaps,  of  less  conse- 
quence in  the  eyes  of  the  philosophers,  but  which  in  the 
sight  of  God  was  certainly  worth  quite  as  much.  They 
fell  back  then  into  a  lasting  indecision  with  regard  to  the 
career  of  the  Chevalier  Koger  Tancrede  to  whom,  mean- 
while, they  gave  the  best  possible  education,  although 
they  could  see  nothing  in  the  future  outlook  for  him 
but  to  be,  like  monsieur  his  father,  a  country  gentleman 
with  an  income  of  four  hundred  crowns.  It  was  a  sad 
affair. 

Yet,  from  the  depths  of  this  clouded  sky  there  fit- 
fully peeped  a  little  star  which,  from  time  to  time, 
flashed  upon  the  Anguilhems  the  ephemeral  rays  of  its 
intermittent  liglit.  This  fostering  star  was  an  inheri- 
tance, possible,  at  least,  if  not  probable.  It  was  the  for- 
tune of  a  distant  cousin,  a  chevalier  by  the  king's  grace, 
a  retired  captain  of  a  frigate,  an  old  sea-dog,  having 
cruised  under  Jean  Bart,  and  calling  himself  by  his  own 
name,  the  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois. 

That  modern  portrait  which  hung  among  the  old 
family  portraits  in  the  salon  was  his. 

Occasionally  at  the  chateau,  they  talked  of  this 
contemporaneous  celebrity  whose  image  had  come  to  shed 
its  brilliancy  upon  those  of  past  celebrities,  but  they 
spoke  of  him  with  singular  reticence.  The  fact  is,  his 
fortune  was  so  great  and  their  hopes  so  precarious  that 
they  regarded  any  plans  which  they  might  found  upon 
it  as  castles  in  Spain,  chimeras,  and  dreams.  They  dared 
not,  then,  think  seriously  of  that  inheritance,  and  they 
were  right;  but,  on  occasion,  they  would  remark  with 
certain  pride, — 

"We  have  a  relative  at  Versailles,  Monsieur  de 
Bouzenois,  captain  of  one  of  the  king's  vessels." 


16  SYLYAXDIRE. 

Tlicii,  pointing  to  the  picture,  they  would  aiLl, — 
"  There  is  a  portrait  of  liim  in  full  uniform." 
Now,  all  tlioughts  of  the  navy  which  the  Baron 
d'Anguilhera  had  entertained  and  which  we  have  dis- 
closed to  our  readers,  had  come  to  him  in  front  of  that 
portrait  and  had  heen  inspired  by  that  very  fortunate 
relationship. 

"  After  all,"  the  Ijaron  told  himself,  "  the  Yicomte  de 
Bouzenois  is  my  distant  cousin.  I  myself  am  the  only 
relative  remaining  to  him,  so  that  if  he  were  to  die 
intestate  I  should  be  his  heir;  therefore,  if  I  were  to 
ask  him  for  a  recommendation  in  favor  of  the  Chevalier 
Roger  Tancrede,  he  could  not  refuse.  Now  a  recommen- 
dation from  the  captain  of  a  frigate  would  open  a  naval 
career  for  my  son,  and,  tliat  career  once  open,  who 
knows  where  the  chevalier  will  stop?  " 

These  ideas  of  the  baron's  were  strengthened  by  the 
mysterious  life  of  the  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois.  Very 
peculiar  stories  were  circulated  as  to  the  source  of  the 
colossal  fortune  that  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  entire 
family.  Nevertheless,  among  these  stories  was  one  that 
was  considered  very  probable,  and  here  it  is:  — 

The  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois  had  at  the  age  of  sixteen 
embarked  on  the  French  frigate  Thetis.  He  had  first 
achieved  glory  by  cannonading  alternately  the  English 
and  the  Dutch;  then,  finally,  during  the  second  war 
with  Flanders,  he  had  himself  armed  the  brig  Por- 
poise, and  attacked  the  vessels  of  the  English  company 
coming  from  Chandernagor,  and  those  of  the  Dutch 
Company  on  their  way  from  Batavia,  which  services 
had  procured  him,  in  addition  to  a  considerable  share 
of  the  profits,  the  rank  of  captain  of  the  very  frigate 
Thetis  on  which  he  had  formerly  embarked.  At 
last  the  treaty  of  Nimeguen  was  signed,  and  Monsieur 


CHEVALIER   d'ANGUILHEM    AND   FAMILY.  17 

le  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois,  as  a  reward  for  liis  good  and 
loyal  services,  had  been  appointed  governor  of  a  little 
colony  that  we  then  possessed  on  the  Malabar  coast. 

You  know  the  custom  of  the  wives  of  the  country 
aforesaid.  Our  confrere  Lemierre  who  died  without 
having  been  able  to  understand  why  tlie  minister  of  the 
navy  had  not  granted  him  a  pension  of  six  thousand 
livres  in  recognition  of  the  famous  line, 

"  Neptune's  trident  rules  the  world,"  — 

our  confrere  Lemierre,  I  repeat,  has  celebrated  the  cus- 
tom in  a  drama  of  immortal  dulness.  Now,  this  cus- 
tom which,  thanks  to  the  philanthropic  surveillance 
of  the  English,  is  beginning  to  fall  into  disuse,  was  at 
that  time  in  full  force.  It  one  day  happened  then 
that  one  of  the  richest  and  most  powerful  of  the  Malabar 
princes  died,  and',  according  to  custom,  his  wife,  not 
yet  twenty  years  old,  and  as  beautiful  as  the  day,  an- 
nounced her  fixed  purpose  of  self-immolation  upon  his 
pyre. 

Monsieur  de  Bouzenois,  who  was  at  that  time  barely 
thirty-five  years  of  age ,  and  therefore  still  young,  —  Mon- 
sieur de  Bouzenois,  we  say,  was  apprised  of  her  design. 
As  the  ex-captain  of  the  frigate  Thetis  had,  while 
the  husband  was  living,  more  than  once  cast  glances  of 
admiration  at  her  who  was  to-day  a  widow,  he  resolved, 
if  the  thing  were  possible,  to  prevent  the  sacrifice  which 
was  at  hand,  and  with  that  intention  he  repaired  to  the 
house  of  the  deceased,  where  he  found  the  charming 
widow  arraying  herself  in  her  most  beautiful  vestments, 
perfuming  herself  with  the  sweetest  odors,  beautifying 
herself,  in  short,  for  death,  as  another  would  bedeck 
herself  for  a  fete.  He  then  explained  to  her  the 
motive  of  his  visit,   assuring  her  that  it  was  a  crime 

2 


18  STLVANDIRE. 

tlius  uiivogrcttingly  to  quit  life,  when  a  single  glance 
from  her  could  render  life  so  precious  to  others.  He 
reminded  her  that,  besides  being  a  widow,  she  was  a 
mother,  and  that  she  belonged  quite  as  sacredly  to  her 
living  son  as  to  her  dead  husband.  In  short,  he  was 
gallant,  tender,  eloquent,  pathetic,  but  all  in  vain. 
The  victim  admitted  that  she  was  somewhat  sorry  to 
quit  so  young  the  existence  upon  which  she  had  barely 
entered ;  but  she  nevertheless  persisted  in  her  determi- 
nation, although  it  was  evident,  amidst  her  obstinate 
refusals,  that  she  was  sacrificing  herself  less  to  her  love 
for  the  dead  than  to  the  prejudice  of  the  living,  declar- 
ing at  last,  by  Vishnu,  Siva,  and  l^rahma  that  slie  would 
be  forever  disgraced  if  she  were  weak  enough  to  evade 
the  general  custom.  It  was  clear  to  the  eyes  of  the 
Vicomte  de  Boiizenois  that  the  poor  widow  had  no  deep 
predilection  for  the  flames,  but  was  doing  the  thing 
because  the  thing  was  to  be  done,  because  it  was  the 
custom,  because  it  was  the  fashion,  in  short,  and  because 
at  any  cost,  in  every  country  in  the  world,  a  woman  is 
bound  to  follow  the  fashion. 

Thereupon,  his  mind  was  made  up.  He  allowed  the 
entire  ceremony  to  proceed,  as  if  it  were  to  be  con- 
summated. Then,  just  as  the  beautiful  widow  was 
bidding  adieu  to  her  family,  he  drew  his  sword,  gave 
the  signal  to  a  group  of  twenty  soldiers  whom  he  had 
drawn  up  in  line  around  the  funeral  pile  under  the 
pretext  of  adding  to  the  solemnity  of  the  scene,  and, 
while  a  part  of  the  little  band  scattered  the  straw, 
fagots,  and  other  combustible  materials,  with  the  other 
part  he  carried  away  the  beautiful  widow  and  bore  her 
ofif  to  the  government  palace. 

We  know  not  what  line  of  argument  the  Vicomte  de 
Bouzenois  there  pursued  with  the  Malabar  Venus. 


CHEVALIER   D'ANGUILHEM   AND   FAMILY.  19 

But  we  do  know  that  bj'  the  morrow  she  had  not  only- 
renounced  the  funeral  pyre,  but  she  also  appeared  quite 
consoled  for  not  having  died. 

A  year  later  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois  married  the 
widow;  and  each,  it  is  said,  made  at  marriage  a  gift  of 
their  worldly  effects  to  the  survivor.  Now  the  survivor 
at  this  date  was  the  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois,  who,  as 
we  have  before  said,  thanks  to  the  rupees  of  the  dead 
beauty,  added  to  his  own  piastres,  possessed  the  fortune 
of  a  nabob. 

And,  too,  in  the  event  of  the  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois' 
dying  intestate,  the  entire  fortune  would  revert  to  the 
d'Anguilhems,  his  nearest  relatives,  the  son  of  the 
Malabar  Avoman  having,  in  all  probability,  been  pro- 
vided for  at  the  time  of  his  mother's  marriage. 

However,  this  possibility  was  too  entirely  a  matter 
of  chance  for  the  family  to  take  it  in  any  way  into  con- 
sideration in  their  plans  for  the  future  of  the  Chevalier 
Roger  Tancrede. 

But,  during  those  long  winter  evenings  when,  gathered 
around  a  large  fireplace,  sometimes  at  one  house,  some- 
times at  another,  the  gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood 
of  tlie  Chateau  d'Anguilhem  were  rehearsing  the  ex- 
ploits of  their  ancestors  or  the  achievements  of  their 
allies,  Monsieur  de  Chemille,  whose  great-uncle  had  been 
a  colonel,  talked  of  the  cavalry;  Monsieur  de  Birgarou, 
whose  cousin  was  a  god-daughter  of  Vauban,  talked  of 
sieges;  Monsieur  Gantry,  whose  brother-in-law  Avas  an 
excise  officer,  talked  of  the  revenue,  and  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi  talked  of  the  Church. 

As  for  the  Baron  Agenor  Palamede  d'Anguilhem, 
thanks  to  his  kinship  with  the  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois, 
in  the  congress  where  every  branch  had  its  proxy,  he 
represented   the    navy.     However,  the    heroic  and  the 


20  SYLVANDIFxE. 

amorous  adventures  of  the  frigate  captain  slied  some 
lustre  upon  his  rehitives  at  Lochcs.  Glory  is  not  a  very 
productive  appanage,  as  every  one  knows ;  hut  when  it 
comes  in  default  of  anything  else,  it  is  at  least  hetter 
than  nothing. 


THE  CHEVALIER  DISCOVEKS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  21 


II. 


HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM  WHOM  SOME  OF 
THE  DAMES  OF  LOCHES  AND  ITS  VICINITY  CALLED 
HANDSOME  ROGER,  OTHERS  HANDSOME  TANCREDE, 
DISCOVERED    THAT    HE    HAD    A    HEART. 

Thus  the  days  —  and  by  the  days  the  nights  are  under- 
stood—  rolled  on  with  this  good  family,  without  their 
having  settled  anything  about  the  future  career  of  the 
heir,  who,  during  this  period  of  indecision,  had  at- 
tained his  fifteenth  year,  taking  things  as  they  came, 
hunting  and  riding  because  it  was  pleasant,  working  in 
his  unoccupied  moments,  pretending  that  the  open 
air  conduced  greatly  to  the  development  of  his  thoughts, 
and,  when  he  was  in  the  open  air,  thinking  little  but 
whistling  much. 

What  is  more,  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede,  who 
was  the  terror  of  hares  and  deer,  had  never  yet  even 
thought  of  pursuing  a  shepherdess.  He  had  received,  it 
is  true,  a  great  fund  of  sensibility  from  his  mother,  but 
at  Anguilhem  nothing  had  as  yet  developed  the  germs. 
]\ruch  exercise,  a  few  novels,  and  almost  no  opportuni- 
ties for  falling  in  love  comprised  his  mode  of  life. 

However,  one  opportunity  presented  itself.  Let  us 
relate  how  eagerly  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede  seized 
it  by  the  forelock. 

The  baron  and  the  baroness  gave  a  grand  supper  at 
Easter.  In  those  days,  Easter  was  an  occasion  for 
reunions,  and  all  the  nobility  of  the  neighborhood  for 


22  SYLVANDIRE. 

six  leagues  arouiul  was  ])icl(lcii  to  the  Chateau  d'Anguil- 
hem.  After  liaving  performed  for  liis  uiother  the  usual 
services  pertaining  to  his  department,  and  which  we  have 
already  detailed,  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancr^de  made  a 
conspicuous  toilet  and  entered  the  salon  where  tlie  guests 
were  already  assembled. 

The  conversation  turned  upon  tlie  wood-cutting,  the 
recent  sowing,  the  next  hunt;  and,  as  these  three  topics 
were  essentially  interesting  to  country  gentlemen,  not 
very  much  attention  was  paid  to  the  prolonged  belated- 
ness  of  one  of  the  guests;  and  that  guest  was  the 
Vicomte  de  Beuzerie,  known  throughout  the  entire 
province  for  being  so  punctual  that  his  punctuality  had 
become  proverbial.  Yet,  as  eight  o'clock  had  just  struck, 
and  the  invitations  had  fixed  the  dinner  hour  at  half- 
past  seven  precisely,  the  stomachs  began  to  protest,  and 
their  owners  at  the  same  time  asked  each  other  in  low 
tones  what  could  have  become  of  the  delinquent. 

The  question  was  the  less  unseemly,  since  from  the 
moment  the  appointed  hour  had  struck,  the  baron  was 
seen  anxiously  Avatching  the  progress  of  the  clock,  and 
the  baroness,  haying  been  called  two  or  three  times  to 
the  door  of  the  salon  to  know  if  the  dinner  should  not 
be  served,  had  answered  aloud, — 

"  Have  a  little  patience,  Catherine.  Monsieur  de 
Beuzerie  cannot  noAV  be  long  in  coming." 

The  clock  pointed  to  a  quarter  past  eight;  evidently, 
only  an  accident  could  have  delayed  Monsieur  de  Beu- 
zerie. Hence  the  Baroness  d'Anguilhem  began  to  feel 
greatly  concerned  about  the  viscountess,  with  whom  she 
was  rather  friendly,  and  her  daughter  Mademoiselle 
Constance,  who  had  returned  from  the  convent  to  spend 
Easter  week  with  her  family,  and  who  Avas  to  accompany 
her  esteemed  parents  to  Anguilhem. 


THE  CIIEVALIEK  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  23 

The  baron  therefore  directed  the  Chevalier  Koger 
Tancrede  to  saddle  Christopher  and  reconnoitre  the  road 
toward  Beuzerie.  If  the  young  man  returned  in  an  hour 
without  having  discovered  anything,  they  would  sit 
down  to  the  table,  whatever  might  come  of  it. 

Roger  Tancrede  accepted  the  mission  without  urging. 
He  was  one  of  those  light-hearted  lads  that  are  always 
ready  for  anything.  He  buttoned  on  a  pair  of  long  gaiters 
over  his  silk  hose,  saddled  Christopher,  who  was  a  good 
animal  of  three  or  four  years,  jumped  on  his  back,  gath- 
ered up  the  reins,  and,  thanks  to  a  holly  switch  with 
which  he  had  supplied  himself,  and  which  was  to  take 
the  place  of  the  missing  spurs,  he  succeeded  in  urging 
the  peaceful  creature  into  a  gallop. 

The  night  was  fine  enough  for  a  poet.  The  pale  moon , 
buried  in  great,  cushiony  clouds,  the  sharp  north  wind 
whistling  through  the  yet  leafless  branches,  the  hooting 
of  the  night  birds,  all  would  have  delighted  Rene, 
Werther,  or  Hamlet;  but  Roger  was  little  moved  by 
these  nocturnal  influences;  besides,  Roger  was  very 
hungry,  and  when  Roger  was  hungry  there  was  not 
much  under  the  sun,  with  the  exception  of  a  well-laden 
table,  that  he  judged  worthy  of  attention.  And  so  he 
fumed  as  he  galloped  along,  wishing  unpunctual  people 
at  the  devil,  certain  that,  owing  to  the  delay,  the  ragouts 
would  stick  to  the  saucepans,  and  the  filet  would  be 
burned,  and  that  the  entire  blame  was  due  to  Made- 
moiselle de  Beuzerie,  who,  doubtless,  was  keeping  her 
parents  waiting  while  she  perfected  her  toilet.  And, 
indulging  in  these  reflections,  the  young  messenger  kept 
lashing  Christopher  who,  accustomed  even  with  the 
chevalier  to  a  more  moderate  gait,  galloped  harder  than 
ever,  spouting  steam  from  his  nostrils  like  the  phantom 
steed  of  the  lover  of  Lenore. 


24  SYLVANDIRE. 

P>ut,  although  Rogor  Tancrt^de  continued  to  .advance, 
he  still  .saw  nothing  save  the  shadows  of  tlic  clouds  as 
they  floated  across  the  moon  and,  for  the  moment,  ob- 
scured his  path  as  with  a  dark  veil.  He  stopped  to 
listen  from  time  to  time,  and  heard  only  the  rushing  of 
the  wind  through  the  trees;  then,  with  a  sigh,  he  would 
turn  his  head  toward  Anguilhem,  where  he  could  see  in 
the  distance  through  the  branches  the  brilliantly  lighted 
windows  of  the  chateau.  At  that  sight,  he  felt  sorely 
tempted  to  draw  rein  and  return,  saying  that  he  had  seen 
nothing;  but  he  reflected  that  it  was  not  even  ten  min- 
utes since  he  had  started  out,  and  that  his  father  had 
told  him  to  search  for  an  hour.  Thereupon  he  again 
plucked  up  courage,  and  again  whipped  up  Christo- 
pher and  set  off"  at  a  gallop,  to  the  great  amazement  of 
the  poor  beast  who,  ordinarily  serving  as  the  baron's 
mount,  was  with  him  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  gait  that 
was  infinitely  more  sedate. 

Suddenly  Roger  thought  he  heard  a  cry  of  distress 
two  or  three  hundred  paces  in  advance;  at  the  cry,  the 
horse  stopped  of  his  own  accord,  sniffing  the  air  noisily 
with  his  smoking  nostrils.  The  chevalier  looked  about 
him.  He  was  in  a  hollow,  lonely  and  boggy,  on  a  narrow 
roadway  beside  some  deep  clay-pits.  The  cry  was 
dismal,  the  night  uncanny;  Roger  shuddered. 

However,  we  must  say  to  the  credit  of  the  heir  of  the 
name  and  title  of  d' Anguilhem,  the  sentiment  of  fear 
experienced  by  the  chevalier  was  short-lived,  and  was 
instantly  gone  upon  the  reflection  that  he  must  be  of 
service  to  those  who  had  uttered  that  appeal  for  help. 
He  again  urged  Christopher  into  a  gallop,  shouting  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  — 

"  Ho  !  where  are  you  ?  who  called  1  " 

"  This  way,  this  way!  "  answered  a  voice,  nearer  than 


THE  CHEVALIER  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  25 

before,  and  seeming  to  issue  from  the  depths  of  the 
earth. 

"  On  which  side  ?  "  demanded  Koger,  still  advancing. 

"To  the  left  of  the  road,  in  the  marl-pit;  this  way 
farther,  —  here,  just  under  where  you  now  are." 

Roger  pulled  up  Christopher  and  peered  through  the 
darkness  which  had  become  thicker  from  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  moon  behind  the  clouds.  He  thought 
he  could  descry  something  moving  fifteen  feet  below  him. 

"  Can  it  be  you,  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  1  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  yes,  it  is  I,  chevalier,"  returned  the  voice; 
"  in  heaven's  name  get  us  out  of  this.  Our  carriage  went 
over  in  going  too  near  the  edge,  and  we  are  sunken  in 
the  marl." 

"  Help,  Monsieur  Eoger!  "  cried  a  woman's  voice. 

"  Help  !  "  repeated  the  voice  of  a  girl. 

"Ah!  poor  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie!"  cried  Eoger; 
"  wait,  wait,  I  will  come." 

And  he  leaped  down  from  Christopher.  Then  he 
heard  a  frightful  ado,  which  the  trampling  of  his  own 
horse  had  until  then  prevented  his  hearing,  and  which, 
upon  Christopher's  halt,  now  distinctly  reached  his  ear. 
A  horse  was  splashing  about  in  the  muddy  water  of  the 
pit  into  which  he  was  plunged  up  to  the  stomach.  The 
old  coach,  as  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  said,  had  slipped 
from  the  road- way  down  the  embankment  and  fallen 
quite  flat;  but,  thanks  to  the  depth  of  the  box  and  the 
softness  of  the  mud,  the  fall  had  injured  no  one. 

Madame  de  Beuzerie  had  at  first  thought  proper  to 
faint  away,  but  at  Roger's  voice,  she  had  come  to  her- 
self again.  As  for  her  daughter  Constance,  she  had 
borne  the  fall  with  great  courage.  Of  course  Monsieur 
de  Beuzerie,  who  was  unhurt,  had  entertained  fears  only 
for  his  wife  and  daughter. 


26  SYLVANDIKE. 

Believing  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  the  Chevalier  Roger 
Tancrede  slid  down  the  declivity  until  he  reached  the 
coach.  He  then  called  on  the  coachman  to  come  to  his 
assistance;  hut  the  coachman  had  gone  in  search  of  help 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  he  called  in  vain.  The  young 
man  then  resolved  alone  to  extricate  Monsieur,  Madame, 
and  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie;  the  merit  would  1x3  the 
greater.  Consequently,  he  began  by  opening  the  door 
and  releasing  Mademoiselle  Constance  de  Beuzerie, 
whom  her  mother  held  out  to  him  like  the  mother  who, 
in  the  picture  of  the  flood,  holds  her  child  above  the 
waters.  Roger  took  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  and 
deposited  her  upon  the  bank  as  easily  as  if  she  had  been 
a  bird.  Then  came  the  turn  of  the  viscountess;  this  was 
a  more  difficult  matter.  The  viscountess  was  what  in 
the  provinces  is  styled  a  fine  woman,  that  is,  she  was  a 
plump  matron,  very  attractive  still,  of  five  feet  one  inch 
in  height,  fat  in  proportion,  weighing,  perhaps,  one 
hundred  and  sixty  or  one  hundred  and  seventy  pounds. 
However,  mustering  all  his  strength,  Roger  succeeded 
in  pulling  her  up,  while  the  viscount  aided  from  below, 
and,  in  a  few  seconds,  he  had  her  deposited  safe  and 
sound  beside  her  daughter. 

There  remained  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie,  who  was  far 
from  presenting  the  same  difficulties  as  his  wife.  A  tall, 
spare  man,  still  lusty  and  active,  he  was  out  of  his  coach 
in  a  twinkling,  and,  without  Roger's  help,  sprang  up 
the  bank,  where  he  joined  the  rest  of  his  family. 

Roger,  for  whom  there  was  nothing  more  to  do  at  the 
coach,  immediately  followed  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie, 
Avith  whom  he  exchanged  many  compliments,  while  the 
two  ladies  overwhelmed  him  with  thanks  and  courtesies. 

And  still  the  coachman  had  not  returned.  They 
called  him  in  vain;  their  shouts  Avere  wasted  on  soli- 


THE  CHEVALIER  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  27 

tude,  and  only  the  screecli-owls  and  the  hoot-owls  an- 
swered,  as  if  in  mockery  of  the  poor  travellers. 

Roger,  whose  stomach  grew  more  and  more  famished, 
increasing  his  impatience,  suggested  that  they  should 
not  wait  for  the  coachman,  wlio  in  all  likelihood  would 
return  quite  alone;  and  he  began  to  unhitch  the  mired 
horse,  which,  in  a  trice,  was  on  the  bank  only  a  few 
steps  distant  from  his  masters. 

The  only  question  now  was  how  to  reach  the  chateau. 
This  matter,  which  at  first  sight  appeared  very  simple, 
was,  in  reality,  complicated  by  circumstances,  as  we 
shall  see.  There  were  two  horses  for  accomplishing 
the  undertaking;  as  for  the  coach,  it  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  It  would  take  seven  or  eight  men  to  set  it, 
not  to  say,  on  its  feet,  but  on  its  wheels.  There  were, 
then,  two  horses,  we  repeat;  but  one  of  the  two  was 
covered  with  mud.  Roger  first  proposed  to  Monsieur  de 
Beuzerie  that  he  himself  should  lead  Christopher  by  the 
bridle,  while  the  viscountess  and  her  daughter  should 
mount  his  back,  and  that  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  should 
bestride  his  own  horse.  But  Christopher,  still  quite 
excited  by  his  race,  whinneying  and  pawing  the  earth, 
seemed  to  the  two  ladies  to  be  a  little  too  restive,  and 
the  proposition  was  rejected. 

Roger  next  suggested  riding  with  Madame  de  Beu- 
zerie upon  Christopher,  for  whom  he  would  answer 
when  he  himself  was  on  his  back,  while  the  viscount 
and  his  daughter  should  ride  the  other  horse.  But,  as 
we  have  said,  the  other  horse  was  covered  with  mud, 
and  the  viscountess  whispered  to  her  husband  that  if 
that  plan  were  adopted,  Constance  woiild  spoil  her  lovely 
new  gown  of  pekin.  Hence  that  plan  was  rejected  like 
the  first. 

Finally  it    was  decided  that  Madame  de   Beuzerie, 


28  SYLVANDIRE. 

Imving  Ics-s  at  stake  on  account  of  licr  gown  tlian  Made- 
moiselle Constance,  should  witli  her  husband  mount  the 
coach  horse,  upon  whose  hack  they  placed  Christopher's 
saddle,  while  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede,  who  was 
a  perfect  horseman,  sliould  mount  Christopher  bareback 
and  take  jNIademoisidle  Constance  up  bcliind  him. 

They  proceeded  to  put  into  execution  this  plan  which 
was  yet  to  receive  a  slight  modification.  ^lonsieur  de 
Beuzerie  mounted  the  horse  first;  then  Koger  lifted 
Madame  de  Beuzerie  and  established  her  in  majesty 
behind  her  spouse.  Thus  far,  all  worked  like  a  charm; 
but,  having  reached  this  point,  the  remainder  of  the 
plan  presented  a  little  difficulty. 

If  Koger  Tancrede  got  on  the  horse  first,  Mademoiselle 
Constance  would  in  that  case  have  no  one  to  help  her 
mount  behind  him;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the 
Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede  first  placed  Mademoiselle 
Constance  behind,  then  he  in  turn  could  not  mount  the 
horse  except  by  executing  some  extravagant  gymnastic 
feat,  throwing  his  leg  over  Christopher's  head  instead 
of  his  tail.  They  searched  on  all  sides  for  a  bank,  a 
mile-stone,  a  fallen  tree ;  there  Avas  nothing.  At  last, 
his  famished  stomach  spurring  him  on,  the  Chevalier 
Roger  Tancrede  devised  a  plan:  it  was  that  he  should 
mount  behind  Mademoiselle  Constance,  whom  he  would 
then  clasp  in  his  arms  instead  of  being  clasped  in  hers. 
Such  a  course  was  doubtless  somewhat  imconventional, 
and  at  the  proposition  the  father  and  mother  both  knit 
their  brows;  but  the  viscountess  inclined  to  the  vis- 
count's ear  and  whispered, — 

"  Never  mind,  my  dear!  it  must  be  done,  and,  after 
all,  they  are  but  two  children." 

"Mount,  then,  as  you  will,"  said  Monsieur  de  Beu- 
zerie, "  for  indeed  we  must  proceed." 


THE  CHEVALIER  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  29 

"Mademoiselle,  allow  me?"  said  Koger. 

And  like  a  feather  he  lifted  up  the  slight  little  sylph 
called  Mademoiselle  Constauce,  and  was  almost  as  soon 
on  the  crupper  behind  her. 

Mademoiselle  Constance  uttered  a  pretty  little  shriek, 
very  terrified,  but  not  very  terrifying,  to  which  the 
viscount,  full  of  parental  and  prudish  fears,  responded 
with,  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"Nothing,  monsieur,  nothing,"  returned  Roger. 
"Just  as  I  sprang  up,  mademoiselle  lost  her  balance; 
now  I  have  her  in  my  arms  and  there  is  no  danger." 

"In  your  arms,  inorhleu!  your  arms!  "  muttered  the 
viscount. 

"  Hush,  my  dear,"  remonstrated  the  viscountess,  "  you 
will  put  ideas  into  the  children's  heads  that  certainly 
are  not  there  now." 

**  Let  us  say  no  more,"  said  the  viscount. 

And  he  applied  his  heels  to  such  purpose  that  his 
horse  set  off  at  a  gentle  trot.  Christopher  followed  on 
behind. 

However,  let  us  hasten  to  say  that  the  viscount's 
fears,  if  exaggerated,  were  not  without  foundation. 
Scarcely  had  the  Chevalier  Tancrede  felt  Mademoiselle 
Constance  leaning  against  his  heart,  before  his  heart 
began  to  throb  as  it  had  never  yet  throbbed.  For  her 
part,  the  young  girl,  who,  reared  in  a  convent  until  then, 
was  riding  a  horse  for  the  first  time,  trembled  with  fear, 
and,  whether  she  herself  was  experiencing  an  unknown 
pleasure,  or  whether,  indeed,  in  her  primitive  innocence 
fear  really  triumphed  over  conventionalism,  she  clasped 
to  her  breast  the  hand  with  which  the  young  man  was 
holding  her,  turning  from  time  to  time  to  appeal  to 
him,  — 

"Oh!  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  hold  me  more  firmly, 


30  SYLVANDIRE. 

more  firmly  still!  Oh!  IMon.sieur  Ic  Chevalier,  T  am 
so  afraid  !  Oh!  ]\Ionsieur  le  Chevalier,  I  am  going  to 
fall  —  " 

And  every  time  that  she  turned,  her  fair  locks  brushed 
the  young  man's  face,  her  beautiful  eyes  met  his,  her 
sweet  breath  mingled  with  his,  with  the  result  that  poor 
Roger  forgot  his  increasing  hunger,  and  he  would  have 
had  the  journey  last  forever,  he  felt  such  a  strange  sense 
of  comfort,  such  unknown  pleasure,  sucli  inexplicable 
delight  stealing  through  all  his  being,  such  expansion  of 
bosom.  Every  sighing  tree,  every  moonbeam  as  it  gently 
caressed  hira  seemed  breathing  in  his  ear,  "  Are  you  not 
happy ,  Roger  1  " 

Yes,  the  chevalier  was  happy,  and,  without  knowing 
why,  Mademoiselle  Constance  also  was  happy.  In  her 
fear  there  was  a  charming  little  intermixture  of  pleasure 
for  which  she  did  not  account,  although  she  told  herself 
that  she  had  never  been  so  agreeably  frightened,  and 
that  fear  was  a  sensation  full  of  delicious  emotions,  in 
short,  a  misjudged  thing  until  then,  and,  consequently, 
calumniated  like  all  misjudged  things. 

It  was  while  enjoying  this  happiness,  ill-defined  in 
their  minds  but  profoundly  appreciated  in  their  hearts, 
that  the  two  young  people  reached  the  Chateau  d' Anguil- 
hem.  The  horses'  hoofs  had  been  heard  by  all  the 
guests.  A  famished  stomach  has  no  ears,  it  is  said. 
Strange  mistake  !  A  famished  stomach  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, all  ears,  and  very  sharp  ears  at  that.  Everybody 
ran  out  to  the  steps,  and  the  viscount,  the  viscountess, 
Mademoiselle  Constance,  and  Roger  were  received  with 
a  blaze  of  torches,  not  unlike  sovereigns  returning  to 
their  own  dominions,  and  for  whom  the  royal  residence 
has  been  illuminated. 

The  baron  extended  his  arms  to  the  viscountess,  who, 


THE  CHEVALIER  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  31 

thanks  to  their  support,  decorouslj'  reached  the  ground. 
The  viscount  solemnly  dismounted  as  if  to  beat  of  dn;m, 
as  a  horseman  ought  to  dismount.  As  for  Roger,  he  made 
but  one  bound,  took  Mademoiselle  Constance  under  the 
arms  with  both  hands,  lifted  her  like  a  feather,  and  set 
her  gently  on  the  ground,  so  gently  that  not  even  a 
sound  was  heard  as  the  girl's  two  little  feet  met  the 
flags.  Then  it  was,  by  the  light  of  the  torches,  that 
Roger  first  had  a  good  look  at  Constance,  whom  thus  far 
he  had  but  guessed  at.  What  of  Constance  ?  Ravish- 
ing blue  eyes,  blonde  hair  that  looked  like  fluffs  of  silk, 
a  mouth  like  a  cherry,  a  neck  like  a  swan's,  a  sylph- 
like form,  —  such  was  Mademoiselle  da  Beuzerie.  A 
cloud  of  flame  swept  before  Roger's  eyes,  and  he  felt  as 
if  he  should  die  of  joy. 

Without  daring  to  offer  his  hand,  he  followed  Made- 
moiselle Constance,  who,  as  soon  as  she  was  free  from 
Christopher,  had  blushingly  executed  a  pretty  convent 
courtesy  before  her  cavalier  and  gone  with  her  mother; 
but,  strange  to  say,  already  his  heart,  so  happy  and  full 
a  moment  ago,  was  seized  with  a  stricture.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  young  girl  were  lost  to  him.  And  Roger,  poor 
Roger,  the  young  man  whose  robust  appetite  had  become 
proverbial,  sat  down  to  the  table  without  the  least  desire 
to  eat. 

However,  a  great  triumph  awaited  Roger.  Their 
clamorous  hunger  had  immediately  assembled  the 
guests  in  the  dining-room;  but  the  first  course  was 
barely  removed  before  conversation,  in  subjection,  at 
first,  to  their  appetites,  began  to  rise  in  the  shape  of 
interrogations.  They  asked  the  cause  of  Monsieur  de 
Beuzerie 's  delay,  and  inquired  why  that  worthy  gen- 
tleman, who  should  have  come  in  his  carriage,  had 
arrived  on  horseback  instead. 


32  SYLVANDIRE. 

Then  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  detailed  tlio  whole  ad- 
venture, presented  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede  as  his 
rescuer,  extullcil  his  zeal  and  the  judgment  displayed  by 
him,  notwithstanding  his  youth.  The  eulogies  of 
Madame  de  Beuzerie  surpassed  those  of  her  husband. 
Mademoiselle  Constance  alone  said  nothing,  but  she 
blushed  furiously  and  cast  a  shy  glance  at  Ivoger. 
Roger,  who  had  not  for  an  instant  taken  his  eyes  from 
her,  remarked  the  blush  and  intercepted  the  glance;  and, 
without  knowing  why,  he  felt  that  look  and  blush  did 
him  good.  No  other  subject  was  discussed  during  the 
dinner,  and  by  dessert,  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede 
was  regarded  by  the  guests  as  the  deliverer  of  the  whole 
family  in  general,  and  of  Mademoiselle  Constance  in 
particular. 

Mademoiselle  Constance  and  the  Chevalier  Roger 
Tancrede  were  therefore  feted  as  the  two  prodigies  of 
the  evening,  and  feted  in  the  manner  of  that  happy 
time  of  politeness  and  good  fellowship.  Indeed,  in  those 
days,  it  seemed  as  if  all  wished  to  make  life  smooth  and 
pleasant  for  the  novices  who  were  just  setting  foot  upon 
society's  threshold.  "Women  made  advances  to  the 
school-boy  still  in  the  hands  of  his  tutor.  Men  strove 
to  please  heiresses  yet  captive  behind  the  gratings  of 
their  convents.  They  came  from  school-room  or  college, 
the  young  men  to  talk  of  love,  and  the  maidens  to  hear 
it  talked  of. 

Those  were  happy  days,  when  the  lads  had  not  yet 
taken  it  into  their  heads  to  talk  politics  while  spinning 
their  tops,  and  girls  did  not  dream  of  discussing  ethics 
while  dressing  and  undressing  their  dolls. 

In  the  depths  of  his  heart.  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem 
was  delighted  at  the  importance  with  which  the  adven- 
ture of  the  marsh  was  investing  his  son.     Above  all,  in 


THE  CHEVALIER  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  33 

his  plans  for  the  future,  the  baron  was  seeking  an  estab- 
lishment for  his  son,  and  Mademoiselle  Constance,  who 
at  the  death  of  her  father  and  mother  would  inherit  an 
income  of  six  thousand  francs,  was  in  every  way  a  suit- 
able match  for  the  chevalier.  Beuzerie  and  Anguilhem 
could  then  he  united  by  purchasing  three  or  four  leagues 
of  marsh  which  could  be  had  for  little,  delightful  hunt- 
ing-grounds, but  which  were  otherwise  perfectly  useless, 
and  two  or  three  small  pieces  of  woodland  lying  between 
them  here  and  there ;  and  all  together  would  form  one 
of  the  noblest  baronies  of  Touraine.  The  children  born 
of  that  marriage  would  thus  own  valley  and  mountain 
as  their  ancestors  had  owned  them  at  the  height  of  their 
prosperity.  That  would  be  a  fine  thing;  it  would  be 
grand,  magnificent.  The  worthy  baron  was  in  high 
good  humor  throughout  the  meal,  and  he  sang  at 
dessert. 

But,  very  different  from  the  baron,  and  as  if  he  must 
have  divined  the  plans  of  that  ambitious  father,  Mon- 
sieur de  Beuzerie,  who  had  at  first  seated  himself  at 
the  table  with  an  air  of  imposing  dignity,  drew  himself 
up  more  and  more  as  the  dinner  neared  its  close,  sign- 
ing to  his  wife  that  she,  too,  should  assume  the  defen- 
sive, a  manoeuvre  which  the  vicountess  executed,  it 
should  be  added,  with  a  conjugal  understanding  worthy 
of  the  highest  eulogy.  More  than  that:  as  the  young 
people  had  been  placed  side  by  side,  and  as,  instead 
of  eating  as  became  children  of  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
years,  they  talked  in  the  low  tones  that  lovers  might 
have  used,  Monsieur  and  Madame  de  Beuzerie  over- 
whelmed their  daughter  with  threatening  glances,  to 
which  at  first  Constance  paid  no  attention,  occupied  as 
she  was  with  something  else;  but  tliey  at  last  took  effect, 
throwing   the    girl    into  a  state    of   anguish,  the    more 

3 


34  SYLVANDIRE. 

poignant  owing  to  her  utter  ignorance  of  the  cause  of  her 
parents'  wrath. 

And  so,  no  sooner  were  they  risen  from  table  than 
Madame  de  Beuzeric  took  her  daughter  l)y  the  liand 
and  made  her  sit  beside  her,  wliile  Monsieur  de  13ou- 
zerie,  after  announcing  that  he  wished  to  get  home  the 
same  night,  set  out  to  learn  something  about  his  coach. 

Monsieur  de  Beuzci'ie  came  Ixick  in  despair.  His 
coachman  had  returned  dead-drunk,  and  the  coach  was 
still  daintily  embedded  in  the  marsh;  then,  as  polite- 
ness very  naturally  demanded,  the  baron  and  the 
baroness  offered  their  neighbors  a  room  in  the  chateau. 
But  this  proposition,  which,  moreover,  Avas  nothing 
unusual,  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  so  promptly  negatived 
that  tlie  baron  was  forced  to  pass  on  to  another  sugges- 
tion. This  was  to  put  the  viscount's  horse  to  the 
baron's  cart;  by  this  means,  Monsieur,  Madame,  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  could  regain  their  own  chateau 
that  evening,  as  they  seemed  so  desirous  of  doing.  The 
next  morning,  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem's  people  would 
extricate  the  coach  from  the  marsh,  hitch  Christopher  to 
it,  and  Christopher  should  take  the  coach  to  Beuzerie 
and  bring  back  the  cart. 

This  plan  was  enthusiastically  approved  by  the  vis- 
countess and  the  viscount,  to  the  great  despair  of  Made- 
moiselle Constance  and  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede, 
between  whom  a  poor  little  tearful  glance  was  exchanged 
for  a  stifled  sigh,  an  interchange  which,  happily,  was 
not  surprised  by  the  girl's  inflexible  parents.  A  quarter 
of  an  hour  after  the  matter  had  been  decided,  it  was 
announced  that  the  viscount's  horse  had  been  put  to  the 
baron's  cart. 

They  must  go  then.  The  poor  children  had  seen  each 
other  two  hours  ago  for  the  first  time,  but  it  seemed  to 


THE  CHEVALIER  DISCOVEKS  THAT  HE  HAS  A  HEART.  35 

tliem  that  they  had  known  each  other  from  infancy. 
The  baron  and  the  viscount  shook  hands;  Madame 
d'Anguilhem  and  Madame  de  Beuzerie  embraced;  Con- 
stance made  a  beautiful  courtesy  to  all  the  company, 
and  cast  a  very  sorrowful  glance  at  the  Chevalier  Roger 
Tancrede.  Then  all  three  got  into  the  cart,  the  horse  set 
off,  and  then  folloAved  the  diminishing  sound  of  wheels 
and  bells,  and  soon  the  sound  died  quite  away. 

Roger  did  not  return  to  the  salon  with  the  rest  of  the 
company.  Roger  had  remained  at  the  threshold  of  the 
house-door ;  from  the  threshold  of  the  house-door  he  had 
run  to  the  court-gate,  and  there  he  had  stood,  sad  and 
motionless,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  vanishing  cart,  in  which 
direction  he  kept  on  gazing  even  long  after  it  had  dis- 
appeared from  sight.  Doubtless  he  would  have  been 
found  there  the  next  morning  had  he  not  felt  a  touch 
upon  his  shoulder.  It  was  his  tutor,  Abbe  Dubuquoi, 
who  came  to  say  that  a  longer  absence  from  the  salon 
would  be  considered  rude  by  the  remaining  guests. 
Roger  furtively  brushed  away  two  great  tears  that  were 
falling  from  his  eyes,  and  followed  his  instructor. 


36  SYLVANDIRE. 


III. 


HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM,  DISCOVERING 
THAT  HE  HAD  A  HEART,  WISHED  TO  BE  ASSURED 
THAT    MADEMOISELLE    DE    BEUZERIE    ALSO    HAD    ONE. 

It  was  lucky  for  the  Chevalier  Tancrede  that  they  did 
not  keep  late  hours  in  those  days  at  Easter.  At  niidniglit 
all  the  guests  dispersed,  some,  and  they  were  the  nearest 
neighbors,  to  return  to  their  manors,  either  afoot  or  on 
horseback;  others,  who  lived  at  a  distance,  to  retire  to 
the  apartments  which,  in  the  fulness  of  their  ancient 
hospitality,  the  baron  and  the  baroness  had  placed  at 
their  disposal." 

Before  ascending  to  his  bed-chamber,  Roger  went  as 
usual  to  embrace  his  father  and  his  mother,  who  ex- 
changed smiles;  then  he  bowed  to  the  abbe  and  in  turn 
retired,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  felt  not  the  least  inclined 
toward  sleep ;  sleep  had  abandoned  him  like  his  appetite ; 
he  but  thought  of  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  chevalier  had  given 
thought  to  anything  but  a  hunting  party,  or  a  horse-race, 
or  a  fencing-match,  or  an  ingenious  subterfuge  forgetting 
off  from  a  recitation  of  his  Sallust  or  Virgil. 

Roger  was  profoundly  sad.  He  had  comprehended  that 
the  only  aim  of  that  hurried  departure  had  been  to  take 
Constance  away  from  him ;  but  he  had  read  in  the  young 
maid's  eyes  that  she  would  have  been  very  glad  to  re- 
main near  him,  and  it  comforted  him.  Besides,  there 
is  something  which  weighs  upon  the  heart  so  sweetly 


CHEVALIER  SEARCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  37 

in  the  early  sorrows  of  a  first  love,  that  they  are  accepted 
as  sensations  greatly  to  be  preferred  to  the  indifference 
that  has  given  place  to  them.  What  we  desire  above  all 
things  is  not  exactly  to  be  happy,  —  Ave  do  not  know  yet 
what  happiness  is, — but  to  avoid  a  return  to  that  arid 
desert  whence  we  have  come,  to  remain  in  the  soft 
sunlight  under  the  beautiful  green  trees,  among  the 
intoxicating  odors  of  the  flowers,  whose  thorns  have 
already  lacerated  our  fingers;  but,  for  all  that,  how  we 
love  to  pluck  them,  whatever  the  risk,  how  essential  to 
breathe  their  perfume!  We  prefer  tempest  to  calm, 
suffering  to  lack  of  joy. 

Roger  went  to  sleep  late,  and  he  slept  feverishly, 
which  did  not  interfere  with  his  waking  at  daybreak, 
refreshed,  rested,  and  bright-eyed.  What  is  more,  he 
had  planned  a  little  scheme  of  his  own.  He  would  him- 
self take  back  the  coach  with  Christopher  under  pre- 
text of  asking  in  the  name  of  his  father  and  mother  after 
the  Beuzerie  family,  to  whom,  in  view  of  the  advanced 
hour  of  the  night  when  they  had  left  the  chateau,  the 
baron  and  the  baroness  might  be  supposed  to  fear  that 
some  accident  had  happened.  In  addition,  he  had  con- 
ceived an  idea  that  rendered  such  a  course  quite  natural. 
He  would  give  the  coachman  a  crown  to  counterfeit  ill- 
ness and  declare  that  he  did  not  feel  equal  to  going  to 
Beuzerie. 

The  chevalier,  who  knew  where  the  coach  was, 
directed  the  gamekeeper  and  the  stable-boy,  and  these, 
with  the  help  of  the  gardener,  the  farmer,  and  three  or 
four  of  his  plough-boys,  succeeded  by  means  of  ropes  and 
strength  of  arms  in  hoisting  the  coach  to  the  roadway. 
Happily,  the  solidity  of  the  old  coach  preserved  it  from 
damage,  and  once  righted,  it  made  no  objection  to 
wheeling  toward  Beuzerie.     As  for  Christopher,  under 


38  SYLVANDIRE. 

the  stimulus  of  repeated  cuts  of  tlie  wliip  from  his  young 
master,  lie  set  off  at  a  full  trot,  kicking  and  whinncying 
by  way  of  protest  that  he  failed  to  understand  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  was  driven  since  the  night  before. 

But,  as  Roger  drew  near  Bcuzcric,  his  urgency,  as 
regards  Christopher,  became  less  pressing,  and,  profiting 
by  the  cessation  of  blows,  the  intelligent  animal  came 
down  from  the  full  trot  to  a  jog,  and  from  the  jog-trot 
to  a  walk.  In  fact,  what  had  at  first  seemed  a  very 
simple  thing  to  the  young  man,  this  matter  of  taking 
the  viscount  his  coach  and  getting  the  paternal  cart  in 
exchange,  now  looked  to  him  like  monstrous  audacity. 
He  recalled  INIonsieur  de  Beuzerie's  severity  of  counte- 
nance, his  frown,  his  curt  accents,  and,  more  than  all, 
his  precipitate  departure,  and  he  asked  himself  whether 
the  master  of  Beuzerie,  who  had  been  in  such  haste  to 
leave  the  Chateau  d'Anguilhem,  would  experience  a 
high  degree  of  pleasure  on  seeing  the  heir  of  that  chateau 
at  the  Chdteau  de  Beuzerie.  All  these  reflections  gave 
little  assurance  to  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede,  who, 
among  the  excellent  qualities  with  which  heaven  had 
endowed  him,  had  not  received  that  happy  impudence 
which  is  the  card  most  sure  to  win;  not  only  then  had 
he  ceased  urging  Christopher  forward,  but,  Avhat  is  more, 
had  the  horse  stopped  or  turned  round,  it  is  probable 
that  his  master  would  not  have  had  the  courage  to  start 
him  on  again  or  turn  him  back;  fortunately,  this  did 
not  happen.  Christopher  was  an  honest  creature  incap- 
able of  such  performances.  He  did  not  like  to  be  over- 
driven, that  is  all,  but,  when  left  to  decide  for  himself, 
he  set  to  work  with  a  provincial  conscience,  which  could 
be  relied  on  with  perfect  confidence.  Hence  he  con- 
tinued to  plod  on  at  his  ordinary  pace  toward  Beuzerie, 
and  very  soon  Roger  descried  the  little  chateau's  two 


CHEVALIER  SEARCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  39 

slate-roofed  towers  that  lifted  their  creaking  weather- 
vanes  above  the  trees  of  the  park. 

Koger  still  continued  to  advance,  but,  it  must  be 
said,  he  was  no  longer  forcing  Christopher  to  go;  it  was 
Christopher  that  forced  him.  And  so,  on  he  went, 
overwhelmed  with  profoundest  misgivings  as  to  the 
reception  with  which  he  would  meet,  when,  suddenly, 
at  one  of  the  tower  windows  there  appeared  a  small 
blonde  head  looking  in  his  direction  with  wide-open, 
beautiful  blue  eyes,  while  the  hand  that  obeyed  the 
head  was  waving  a  handkerchief  as  a  token  that  the 
new-comer  was  recognized.  At  that  sight  Roger  drew 
up  Christopher,  and  the  two  beautiful  children  began  to 
exchange  all  the  signs  of  simple  afiection  that  their 
hearts,  winging  their  way  to  each  other,  were  able  to 
suggest. 

This  had  lasted  for  ten  minutes,  and  probably  would 
have  lasted  till  night,  had  not  Roger  seen  a  second  per- 
son rise  behind  Constance.  The  untimely  interrupter 
was  no  other  than  Madame  de  Beuzerie,  who,  passing 
through  the  corridor  and  seeing  her  daughter,  who  had 
imprudently  left  the  door  of  her  room  wide  open,  mak- 
ing unusual  signals  from  the  window,  had  been  curious 
to  know  to  whom  the  signals  were  directed.  Madame 
de  Beuzerie,  who,  on  the  evening  before,  had  chided 
her  husband  for  being  too  ready  to  take  alarm,  and  for 
insisting  upon  their  leaving  the  chateau  so  early,  now 
recognized  Roger,  and  began  to  think  that  the  fancies 
which  the  viscount  had  taken  into  his  head  were  not 
quite  so  silly  as  she  had  at  first  believed. 

Being  discovered,  Roger  saw  that  there  was  no  draw- 
ing back;  he  brought  the  whip  down  upon  Christopher, 
who,   not  expecting  anything  of  the  kind,  set  off  at  a 


40  SYLVANDIRE. 

run,  anil  ontorcd  tlio  court  of  the  Cliateau  de  Beuzerie 
at  a  high  rate  of  speed. 

Tlio  fir.st  person  that  Roger  saw  was  tlie  viscount, 
who  was  returning  from  his  morning  walk  in  the  park. 
Roger  thought  that  the  moment  had  arrived  when  lie 
must  pay  for  his  audacity.  He  sprang  to  the  ground, 
advanced  toward  IVlonsieur  de  Beuzerie,  and  announced 
very  deliberately,  for  a  man  who  was  serving  his  appren- 
ticeship in  lying,  tliat,  his  coachman  having  felt  quite 
indisposed,  he  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  bring  the 
coach  to  Beuzerie,  fearing,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
viscount  might  have  need  of  it,  and  secondly,  desiring 
to  learn,  on  behalf  of  the  baron  and  the  baroness, 
whether  any  accident  luul  happened  to  tlieir  good 
neighbors  when  returning. 

As  these  two  motives  were  certainly  most  plausible, 
the  viscount  was  forced  to  accept  them,  although  he 
very  clearly  divined  the  true  prompting  of  the  young 
man's  visit.  He  therefore  feigned  to  believe  implicitly 
all  that  the  other  had  said,  inquired  in  return  after  the 
health  of  the  baron  and  the  baroness,  and  as  it  was  the 
dinner  hour,  and  they  were  about  to  sit  down  to  table,  he 
even  extended  his  courtesy  so  far  as  to  invite  his  officious 
neighbor  to  share  pot-luck.  It  is  to  be  imagined  that 
Roger  gratefully  accepted. 

To  put  them  to  a  second  proof  was  what  tempted  the 
viscount  to  this  step.  He  might,  take  it  altogether,  have 
been  deceived  the  night  before,  and  he  wished  to  observe 
the  two  children  again,  Alas!  the  poor  young  hearts 
did  not  yet  know  how  to  feign.  Upon  entering  the 
salon,  Constance  blushed  as  if  she  had  been  fifteen  years 
old,  and  Roger  turned  as  pale  as  if  he  had  been  eigh- 
teen. Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  remarked  upon  the  two 
young  people  an  opposite  effect,  which  however  sprang 


CHEVALIER  SEARCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  41 

from  the  same  source,  and  his  wavering  suspicions  were 
fully  established. 

During  the  dinner  Constance  and  Roger  committed 
imprudence  after  imprudence;  but  on  this  occasion, 
instead  of  frowning,  as  on  the  previous  evening,  Mon- 
sieur de  Beuzerie  overlooked  them,  and  contented  him- 
self with  conveying  to  his  wife  signals  which  meant, — 

"Well,  was  I  such  a  visionary  as  you  said?  Is  it 
clear  now  1  is  it  clear  ?  " 

Indeed,  it  was  so  clear  that  at  the  end  of  dinner,  in 
order  to  deprive  Roger,  doubtless,  of  all  thought  of  re- 
visiting the  chMeau,  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  carelessly 
announced  that  Constance  was  returning  that  same  after- 
noon to  the  convent.  At  this  news,  Constance  uttered 
a  cry,  and  Roger,  seeing  her  turn  so  pale,  and  thinking 
that  she  was  about  to  be  ill,  rushed  toward  her;  but  the 
viscount  gently  detained  him  with  the  remark  that 
Madame  de  Beuzerie  was  present,  and  that,  if  her  daugh- 
ter was  in  need  of  assistance,  she  would  give  it  to  her. 

But  Constance  was  not  at  the  fainting  age.  The  poor 
little  thing  was  too  simple  for  that;  she  was  contented 
to  dissolve  into  tears,  seeing  which,  Roger  had  need  of 
all  his  self-possession  to  repress  his  own.  Moreover, 
those  untimely  tears  occasioned  something  very  sad  for 
the  two  children.  Constance  received  orders  to  go  to 
her  room.  Sobbing  the  while,  she  dropped  a  little  cour- 
tesy to  Roger,  who  acknowledged  it  by  one  of  the  most 
pathetic  of  bows;  after  which,  as  there  was  nothing  more 
to  detain  him  at  the  chateau,  he  begged  to  take  leave 
of  the  viscount.  One  would  have  said  that  the  viscount 
had  foreseen  that  hurried  departure,  for,  on  arriving  at 
the  court-steps,  Roger  found  Christopher  there  already 
harnessed  to  the  cart.  He  thereupon  saluted  the  viscount 
who  shook  hands  with  him  most  amiably,  charged  him 


42  SYLVANDIRE. 

in  turn  with  many  compliments  to  the  baron  and  the 
baroness,  and  completed  his  civilities  by  wishing  him  a 
pleasant  drive. 

As  one  can  easily  understand,  Eoger  did  not  pass 
under  the  little  window  of  the  tower  without  an  up- 
ward glance.  Good  luck  willed  that  just  then  the  vis- 
countess, believing  lloger  to  be  still  in  the  salon  chanced 
to  leave  her  daughter's  room.  Free  for  a  moment,  Con- 
stance had  hastened  to  the  window;  she  saw  Roger.  To 
the  chevalier's  great  bewilderment,  the  maiden's  face 
was  radiant.  The  youth  was  about  to  ask  of  the  beau- 
tiful child  the  cause  of  her  unlocked  for  joy,  when  she 
exhibited  a  pencil  and  a  bit  of  paper.  Roger  compre- 
hended that  Constance  was  about  to  write  to  him,  and 
he  stopped.  In  fact,  after  a  moment's  delay,  both  paper 
and  pencil  fell  at  his  feet. 

On  the  paper  were  these  four  lines :  — 

"  Mamma,  who  is  very  fond  of  me,  has  just  confessed 
that  they  said  before  you  that  I  was  to  leave  for  the  convent 
this  afternoon  so  that  you  would  not  return  here  again. 
The  truth  is  that  I  shall  not  go  until  next  Sunday. 

"  COXSTANCE." 

Since  a  pencil  was  thrown  to  him,  Roger  understood 
that  he  might  respond ;  he  tore  off  a  scrap  of  the  paper, 
and  wrote  in  return  :  — 

"  Walk  in  the  park  to-morrow  morning,  near  the  arbor.  I 
will  come  over  the  wall,  and  we  will  together  plan  some 
means  of  seeing  each  other  again.  I  do  not  know  whether 
you  would  feel  such  grief  as  I,  but  I  do  know  that  I  shall 
die  if  I  am  kept  away  from  you. 

"  Roger." 

Then  he  wrapped  a  pebble  in  this  note,  which,  as  we 
see,  was  somewhat  precocious  for  a  lover  who  was  not 


CHEVALIER  SEAECHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  43 

yet  fifteen  years  of  age;  then,  with  a  school-hoy's  pre- 
cision of  aim,  he  threw  the  pebhle  into  Constance's 
room,  Constance  sprang  back  to  pick  it  up,  and  reap- 
peared skipping  with  joy,  and  nodding  in  assent  that 
she  would  be  at  the  rendezvous.  To  remain  longer 
would  have  been  imprudent;  so,  his  heart  inflated  with 
happiness,  Roger  interrupted  Christopher's  meditations 
with  a  cut  of  the  whip.  Three  hours  later,  the  young  man 
had  returned  to  Anguilhera. 

The  baron  and  the  baroness  glanced  at  each  other, 
and  exchanged  a  smile  on  witnessing  the  joy  that  over- 
flowed their  son's  heart  and  appeared  at  his  eyes,  in  his 
speech,  in  his  movements.  Never  had  Roger  been  so 
obliging;  he  dried  the  china,  polished  the  silver, 
cleaned  the  baron's  gun,  and  recited  to  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi  the  entire  episode  of  the  love  of  Dido  and 
^neas. 

The  day  dragged  with  Roger,  but  it  seemed  to  him 
that  by  keeping  himself  in  motion  he  might  hasten 
the  hours.  He  went,  he  came,  here  and  there,  upstairs 
and  downstairs,  looked  at  all  the  clocks,  and  hurried 
the  supper  as  if  he  were  hungry.  He  sat  down  to  the 
table  and  ate  nothing;  and,  with  eyes  more  wide-awake 
than  they  had  ever  been,  he  retired  to  his  room,  saying 
that  he  was  almost  asleep. 

As  Ave  well  know,  it  was  not  because  he  was  sleepy 
that  Roger  went  to  his  room;  he  had  to  tell  his  love  to 
the  moon,  to  the  breeze,  the  trees,  the  stars,  the  clouds. 
He  opened  his  window  and  the  monologue  began. 

Roger  passed  a  happy  night. 

At  daybreak  Roger  descended  the  stairs;  no  one  in 
the  chateau  had  yet  risen.  He  called  out  to  the  house- 
keeper that  he  was  going  for  a  ride  to  Saint  Hippolyte. 
That  was  in  the  direction  opposite  to  Beuzerie.     Poor 


44  SYLVANDIRE. 

Roger  thought  himself  obliged  to  lie,  even  to  a  servant. 
Then,  having  taken  tliis  precaution,  which,  at  least, 
was  evidence  that  indiscretion  was  not  one  of  Roger's 
faults,  the  young  man  saddled  Christopher  and  set  off  at 
full  speed. 

This  time  the  poor  animal  attempted  no  resistance; 
besides,  as  a  precautionary  measure,  Roger  had  re-enforced 
himself  with  a  pair  of  spurs  and  a  riding-whip.  Chris- 
topher feeling  the  spurs,  and  having  seen  the  riding- 
whip,  had  very  quickly  comprehended  that,  if  he  at- 
tempted to  make  any  resistance,  he  would  fare  but  ill. 

Upon  rising,  the  baron  learned  from  the  housekeeper 
that  his  son  had  gone  for  a  ride  to  Saint  Hippolyte.  He 
did  not  believe  a  word  of  it,  very  naturally,  nor  did  the 
baroness. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi,  who,  from 
the  time  he  had  risen,  had  kept  inquiring  of  every  one 
for  news  of  his  pupil,  went  to  inquire  of  his  parents. 
The  baron  and  the  baroness  began  significantly  to  smile, 
and  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem  said,  with  a  bantering  shake 
of  the  head  as  he  placed  his  hand  on  the  tutor's  shoul- 
der, — 

"  All !  abbe ,  abbe !  you  have  made  a  good-for-nothing 
of  your  pupil." 

The  baron  had  not  lost  sight  of  his  dearest  project, 
which  was  to  reunite  Anguilhem  and  Beuzerie.  As  for 
the  baroness,  she  murmured, — 

"  Really,  Constance  is  a  charming  child,  and  I  should 
be  very  happy  to  call  her  my  daughter." 

"  At  all  events,"  responded  the  Abb^  Dubuquoi,  "  the 
wedding  will  not  take  place,  I  hope,  until  my  pupil 
has  finished  his  studies." 

The  baron  and  the  baroness  began  to  laugh  a  little  at 
themselves,    and    more    at    the    abbe.      Indeed,    such 


CHEVALIEK  SEAKCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  45 

schemes  concerning  a  lad  of  fifteen  and  a  little  girl  of 
twelve  were,  even  in  the  eyes  of  their  projectors,  too 
foolish  to  be  entertained  by  the  judgment.  The  baron 
therefore  was  the  first  to  drop  the  subject  by  saying,  — 

"  Time  will  tell ;  let  it  work  and  we  will  talk  of 
something  else." 

And  they  talked  of  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois.  The 
morning  slipped  by  without  Roger's  being  seen  again. 
But,  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  just  as  they 
were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  he  entered  the  room, 
sheepish,  crestfallen,  and  red-eyed.  The  baron  cast  at 
the  baroness  a  meaning  glance  that  said,  — 

"  D'lable !  (liable !  the  matter  does  not  seem  to  be 
running  on  wheels. " 

The  chevalier  took  his  place  at  the  table,  but  he  did 
not  eat,  which  with  him  was  a  sign  of  great  preoccupa- 
tion. Then,  after  dinner,  he  sat  a  while  beside  his 
mother;  he  rearranged  his  private  library,  which  con- 
sisted of  thirty  volumes,  taken  from  the  library  of  the 
chateau;  he  loitered  behind  the  baron  as  the  latter  made 
his  rounds  of  the  kitchen-garden;  he  returned,  still 
silent;  and  he  at  last  interrupted  his  silence  only  to 
complain  of  a  violent  headache,  and  request  that  he 
might  withdraw  early,  a  reqviest  which,  we  may  readily 
suppose,  was  granted  unconditionally. 

But,  after  returning  to  his  room,  Koger  forgot  that  his 
apartment  was  situated  directly  above  his  mother's,  that 
every  one  of  his  movements  was  betraj'ed  by  the  creak- 
ing floor.  All  night  long  he  walked  his  room,  like  the 
malade  imaf/maire,  back  and  forth  and  up  and  down. 
Not  a  step  was  lost  to  the  baron  and  the  baroness. 

"There  is  always  hope  left  to  every  devil,"  said  the 
baron;  "  but  we  are  worsted  by  Beuzerie." 

The  next  morning  the  baron  himself  went  out  to  the 


46  SYLVANDIRE. 

stable  and  found  Christopher  strutting  before  his  rack. 
He  returned  through  tlie  kitclien  with  an  upward  glance; 
the  three  guns  were  above  the  high  mantel.  Roger  had 
not  gone  out.  Roger  was  asleep.  At  Roger's  age,  how- 
ever troubled  one  may  be,  nature  is  exacting;  one  must 
sleep  and  eat. 

So  Roger  slept  until  nine  o'clock;  at  nine  o'clock  he 
descended  to  breakfast,  his  eyes  swollen  and  his  cheeks 
pale.  Poor  boy  !  yet  ho  had  slept  two  hours  longer  than 
on  the  preceding  night.  There  is  a  great  difference 
between  the  sleeplessness  of  joy  and  that  of  sorrow. 

However,  Roger  ate;  but,  while  he  was  eating,  the 
dining-room  door  opened,  and  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie's 
valet  appeared  with  a  letter  in  his  hand.  The  chevalier 
recognized  Comtois,  grew  red  and  turned  pale  alter- 
nately; then,  observing  that  the  valet  was  approaching 
his  father,  he  arose  from  the  table,  and  ran  to  shut  him- 
self witliin  his  room. 

In  spite  of  his  philosophical  pretensions,  a  cold  chill 
ran  over  the  Baron  d'Anguilhem  as  he  opened  the  de- 
spatch, whose  contents  he  could  surmise.  What  is  more, 
Comtois  had  assumed  his  serious  air  and  majestic  bear- 
ing. Now,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  augured  any 
good;  one  always  guesses  at  the  message  by  the  messen- 
ger's face.  However,  the  baron  transferred  his  eyes 
from  Comtois'  visage  to  the  viscount's  letter,  and  read 
as  follows :  — 

"  Monsieur  and  dear  Neighbor,  —  This  is  to  tender  our 
best  wishes  for  your  welfai'e  and  to  present  the  very  humble 
compliments  of  Madame  de  Beuzerie  and  myself  to  you  and 
Madame  la  Baronne.  We  are  sorry  to  have  something  of  a 
disagreeable  nature  to  communicate  with  regard  to  your 
son,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrfede,  whom  I  sur- 
prised yesterday  in  a  secluded  quarter  of  the  park  on  his 


CHEVALIER  SEARCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  47 

knees  to  our  daughter,  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie,  whose 
hands  he  was  kissing  with  an  ardor  rather  excessive  in  a 
school-boy  of  fifteen.  You  well  know,  monsieur,  my  dear 
neighbor,  that  it  is  very  painful  for  us  to  enter  such  a  com- 
plaint against  a  son  whose  father  and  mother  we  love  so 
much,  and,  also,  that  we  must  regard  with  disfavor  his  pur- 
suit of  our  daughter,  by  which  we  are  no  doubt  honored,  but 
which  seems  to  us  not  only  very  precocious,  as  she  is 
scarcely  thirteen,  but  very  ill-advised  as  well,  in  that  it  is 
conducted  without  your  consent.  We  regret  to  be  com- 
pelled to  say  that  it  would  be  a  source  of  great  uneasiness  to 
us  should  ^Monsieur  le  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrfede  come 
again  to  Beuzerie,  but  we  count  iipon  your  friendship  and 
your  good  advice  to  bring  him  to  reason  ;  for,  in  short,  our 
daughter  is  ill  of  the  affair  and  of  the  cold  she  has  un- 
doubtedly taken.  However,  in  view  of  the  pressing  neces- 
sity, her  illness  does  not  prevent  her  leaving  for  the  convent 
this  evening. 

"  Adieu,  monsieur  and  dear  friend.  Believe  in  our  sincere 
desire  to  please  you,  and  in  our  lively  regret  at  having  been 
forced  to  enter  such  complaints. 

"De  Beuzerie. 

"The  seventeenth  day  of  April,  1708.'' 

That  the  letter  almost  dropped  from  the  baron's  hands 
did  not  prevent  his  ringing  for  the  housekeeper  to 
have  Comtois  taken  to  the  pantry,  there  to  be  well 
treated  and  regaled  with  the  very  best.  He  then  an- 
swered the  viscount's  letter,  promising  to  call  and  make, 
on  behalf  of  the  chevalier,  due  apologies  both  to  him 
and  to  Madame  de  Beuzerie. 

AVarmed  up  by  the  welcome  that  he  had  received,  and 
which  he  was  far  from  expecting  of  the  baron's  cour- 
tesy, Comtois  told  the  cook,  while  drinking  his  bottle  of 
Orleans,  that  Mademoiselle  Constance  seemed  greatly 
grieved  and  wept  aloud.     In  the  wake  of  this  confidence 


48  SYLVANDIRE. 

there  followed  almost  as  much  sorrow  at  Anguilliem  as 
there  was  grief  at  I^euzorie.  In  his  quality  of  only 
son,  Roger  Tancr^do  was  not  only  adored  by  the  haron 
and  the  baroness,  but  also  by  all  the  retainers  of  the 
chS,teau;  and  most  assuredly,  if  theirs  had  still  been  the 
days  when  similar  suits  were  adjudged  by  lance  and 
sword,  the  baron  might  without  resistance  have  armed 
his  ten  vassals  to  go  and  carry  off  the  young  chatelaine 
who  had  been  refused  to  his  son. 

Comtois  having  departed,  the  chevalier  was  sent  for. 
The  baron  admonislied  him  with  a  few  very  paternal 
and  very  mild  reproaches  concerning  the  precociousness 
of  his  amorous  inclinations,  and  on  the  propriety  of 
finishing  his  studies,  at  least,  before  thinking  of  mar- 
riage. Then  the  baroness  added  that  when  the  time 
came  for  such  thouglits,  it  would  be  quite  as  well  that 
the  chevalier  should  not  cast  his  eyes  on  very  wealthy 
heiresses,  presumption  that  might  bring  upon  his  parents 
the  humiliation  of  a  refusal. 

Stung  to  the  quick,  Roger  replied  that  there  had  been 
a  mistake,  that  he  was  not  in  love  with  Mademoiselle 
Constance,  that  he  had  never  thought  of  marriage,  nor 
had  he  for  a  moment  entertained  any  desire  other  than 
to  please  his  tutor,  Monsieur  I'Abbe  Dubuquoi ;  that, 
as  for  his  mother's  anxiety  about  his  aiming  his  addresses 
at  too  lofty  a  mark,  her  fear  was  entirely  chimerical, 
since  he  was  firmly  resolved  to  remain  a  bachelor.  Poor 
child!  he  did  not  suspect  that  the  greatest  danger  to  be 
encountered  in  his  life  would  arise,  perhaps,  from 
polygamy,  a  hanging  offence! 

There  was  so  much  of  wounded  pride  in  the  cheva- 
lier's denial,  that  both  father  and  mother  respected  his 
falsehood.  Consequently,  the  baron  gave  him  his  hand, 
his  mother  kissed  him,  and,  in  accordance  with  the  de- 


CHEVALIER  SEARCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  49 

sire  that  he  had  expressed,  he  was  sent  to  his  tutor  who, 
instead  of  the  loves  of  Dido  and  ^neas,  made  him 
repeat  a  chapter  on  the  contempt  of  riches.  Poor  Roger 
was  decidedly  unfortunate,  both  as  lover  and  as  student. 
As  a  lover,  he  had  fallen  from  Mademoiselle  Constance 
to  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie,  and  as  a  student,  from  Virgil 
to  Seneca. 

The  chevalier  had  no  sooner  left  his  presence  than  the 
baron  made  a  very  grand  toilet,  and  proceeded  to  Beu- 
zerie to  pay  the  promised  visit.  He  was  received  with 
an  air  of  constraint  by  the  viscount  and  the  viscountess, 
who  attributed  their  embarrassment  to  the  preparations 
for  their  daughter's  return  to  her  convent.  The  baron 
asked  to  see  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie,  a  request  which 
could  not  be  refused.  Constance  entered  with  eyes  so 
red  and  swollen  that  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem  discerned 
that  this  time  the  departure  was  not  in  the  least  a  pre- 
tence. The  baron  then  spoke  very  courteously  of  the 
chevalier's  unpardonable  folly,  ascribing  all  the  impro- 
priety of  his  conduct  to  youthful  ignorance  and  thought- 
lessness, adding,  finally,  that  the  poor  boy  had  bitterly 
repented  it,  and  that  he  begged  his  neighbors,  and  espe- 
cially his  fair  young  neighbor,  to  forget  all  that  had 
occurred  within  the  last  three  days ;  thereupon  Constance 
became  as  pale  as  death,  and  feeling  that  she  was  about 
to  burst  into  tears,  fled  from  the  salon. 

The  baron  had  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  young 
maid's  feelings.  She  loved  the  chevalier  deeply,  and 
his  eye  had  penetrated  to  the  very  depths  of  the  virgin 
heart  of  the  heiress  of  Beuzerie ;  the  parents  remained 
to  be  sounded  in  their  turn.  This  was  not  a  difficult 
matter.  The  viscount  himself  turned  the  conversation 
upon  a  certain  Marquis  de  Croisey  who  lived  with  his 
parents  in  Loches,  and  enjoyed  an  income  of  something 

4 


50  SYLVANDIRE. 

like  three  hundred  louis.  For  a  long  time  there  had 
been  a  fair  understanding  between  the  two  families, 
and  he  added  even  tliat  so  great  importance  had  been 
altachLMl  to  what  had  just  passed  only  because  the  affair 
might  prove  an  obstacle  in  the  eyes  of  that  gentleman. 

The  baron  felt  the  indirect  thrust  aimed  at  himself, 
and,  as  we  have  said,  being  a  master  hand  at  fencing, 
he  parried  with  a  thrust  direct,  saying  that,  in  paying 
the  visit  to  Beuzerie,  he  was  so  far  from  thinking  to 
reinstate  his  son,  that  he  quite  intended  this  visit  to  be 
his  last.  In  vain  did  they  beg  that  he  would  not  be  so 
easily  offended ;  he  was  firm.  They  attempted  to  make 
excuses.  He  rose,  saying  that  a  d'Anguilhem  was  the 
equal  of  a  Croisey,  and  that  except  for  a  slight  differ- 
ence in  fortunes  one  d'Anguilhem  was,  in  his  opinion, 
worth  as  much  as  all  the  Beuzeries  in  the  land. 

This  somewhat  exaggerated  estimate  of  the  value  of 
the  d'Anguilhem  family  would  undoubtedly  have  led  to 
a  serious  quarrel  between  the  two  respectable  old  gentle- 
men, both  exceedingly  testy  on  questions  of  honor,  had 
not  Madame  de  Beuzerie,  a  new  type  of  the  Sabine 
woman,  cast  herself  between  them.  The  baron  and  the 
viscount  contented  themselves  with  bowing  to  each  other 
with  icy  dignity,  and  parted  in  utter  wrath.  On  that 
same  evening,  according  to  announcement.  Mademoi- 
selle Constance  set  out  for  the  convent  at  Chinon. 

Very  impatiently  the  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede 
awaited  the  baron's  return,  since,  in  his  filial  esteem 
for  his  father,  he  counted  greatly  upon  him  to  renew 
with  the  Beuzeries  the  thread  of  the  old  friendship  that 
was  threatening  to  end.  But,  quite  contrary  to  what 
he  had  hoped,  the  chevalier  saw  his  father  returning 
with  a  countenance  sterner  than  when  he  went  away. 
He  then  thought  that  things  were  going  from   bad  to 


CHEVALIER  SEARCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  51 

worse,  and,  under  pretext  of  being  more  than  ever  de- 
voted to  Latin,  he  shut  himself  in  his  room  to  Avork,  he 
said,  but  really  to  sigh  and  grieve  quite  at  his  ease. 

We  have  all  been  through  the  first  emotions  of  a  first 
love;  "we  have  all  known  by  swelling  grief  that  we  were 
serving  man's  apprenticeship.  We  have  all  aged  by 
many  years  in  a  single  hour;  it  was  with  the  poor 
chevalier  as  with  us  all. 

He  spent  the  night  pacing  the  length  and  breadth  of 
his  room;  then,  when  day  appeared,  to  beguile  his 
mental  pain  with  physical  fatigue,  he  shouldered  his 
gun,  unchained  Castor,  and  set  off  for  a  hunt. 

But  the  hunting  was  merely  an  excuse  of  which  poor 
Roger  had  taken  advantage.  Without  knowing  how  the 
thing  happened,  since  he  had  coursed  no  hare  in  that 
direction,  nor  had  the  flight  of  a  covey  of  partridges 
lured  him  over  valley  and  mountain,  without  there 
having  been  the  least  excuse,  in  short,  for  the  four  or 
five  leagues  that  he  had  accomplished  on  foot,  our  hunter 
found  himself  in  a  warren  lying  about  five  hundred  paces 
from  Beuzerie,  and  occupying  both  sides  of  the  cross- 
road leading  from  the  chateau  to  Loches.  Now,  it 
happened  by  a  coincidence  which,  however,  was  not  at 
all  extraordinary,  that  the  Vicomte  de  Beuzerie,  also  for 
distraction ,  without  doubt,  since  he  had  his  parental 
anxieties  just  as  Roger  had  his  lover's  troubles,  it  hap- 
pened, I  repeat,  that  the  Vicomte  de  Beuzerie  had  also 
come  out  to  shoot  a  rabbit,  and  that  at  a  bend  of  the 
narrow  road,  the  two  hunters  came  upon  each  other  face 
to  face. 

Each  recoiled  a  step  at  sight  of  the  other.  Roger  had 
a  great  mind  to  take  to  his  heels  and  run ;  but  he  felt 
instinctively  that  it  would  be  a  grossly  stupid  thing  to 
do,  and  that  it  would  be  far  wiser,  being  caught  in  the 


52  SYLVANDIRE. 

act,  to  brazen  it  out;  besides,  bo  was  in  tlie  middle  of 
a  warren,  and  lie  could  as  easily  be  looking  for  a  rabbit 
as  seeking  for  Mademoiselle  Constance. 

During  tbe  first  moment  of  astonishment,  Monsieur 
de  Beuzerie  frowned,  and  Roger  rested  the  butt  of  his 
gun  upon  the  ground  and  doffed  his  cap.  The  vis- 
count was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  You  again,  Chevalier  Koger  TancrMe !  "  he  tartly 
exclaimed. 

"Monsieur  le  Vicomte,"  responded  the  otlier,  "I  am 
here  by  accident.  IMy  dog  started  up  a  Avounded  hare ;  I 
followed  him,  and  before  I  was  aware  of  it,  found  my- 
self in  this  warren." 

"  And  why  is  your  dog  at  Beuzerie  1 "  demanded  the 
viscount. 

"  Why  is  my  dog  at  Beuzerie?  Why,  I  have  twenty 
times  seen  your  dogs  all  over  La  Pintade,  and  La  Pin- 
tade,  I  think,  belongs  to  Anguilhem;  and  then,  besides, 
I  thought  it  was  an  understood  thing  that  we  have  the 
right  to  hunt  on  each  other's  grounds." 

The  words  were  enunciated  with  a  firmness  that  the 
viscount  did  not  expect  from  a  lad  of  fifteen ;  but  Roger 
had  taken  his  misadventure  to  heart,  and  he  must  be 
revenged  on  some  one.  No  one  but  Constance's  father 
was  at  hand,  and  he  abused  Constance's  father.  Had 
he  been  merely  a  keeper,  Roger  would  have  beaten  him. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  viscount,  a  little  astonished 
at  such  logic,  which  proved  that  Roger  was  not  easily 
disconcerted;  "certainly  it  is  understood,  I  know,  that 
our  preserves  should  be  in  common;  but,  after  what  has 
taken  place,  young  man,  many  things  are  changed,  do 
you  hear  1  " 

"  With  you,  monsieur,  but  not  with  us,"  returned  the 
chevalier.    "  You  are  master  of  your  own  lands,  Monsieur 


CHEVALIER  SEARCHES  FOR  MADEMOISELLE'S  HEART.  53 

le  Vicomte,  and  you  can  withhold  the  shooting  from 
any  one  you  wish;  but  I  believe  that  I  may  say,  in  my 
father's  name,  monsieur,  that  you.  will  always  be  very 
welcome  to  ours.     Here,  Castor,  here!  " 

And  Roger  turned  his  back  on  the  viscount,  who  stood 
aghast  at  the  aplomb  of  his  young  neighbor;  but  the 
young  man  had  gone  barely  a  few  steps  before  he  had 
reflected  upon  the  difference  in  age  between  him  and  the 
viscount,  and  he  reproached  himself  for  having  presumed 
to  give  him  a  lesson.  He  therefore  turned  back,  and, 
approaching  the  old  gentleman,  said  politely,  but  not 
less  firmly ,  — 

"  Monsieur,  I  have  the  honor  to  present  my  respects." 

And  he  courteously  bowed  to  the  viscount,  who 
mechanically  returned  the  salute. 

"The  devil!  the  devil!"  ejaculated  the  viscount, 
gazing  after  Roger  as  he  strode  away ;  "  either  I  am 
greatly  deceived,  or  there  goes  a  young  fellow  that  will 
give  us  a  snarl  to  untangle.  Luckily,  Mademoiselle  de 
Beuzerie  is  on  the  road  to  Chinon." 

The  viscount  had  forgotten  that  the  lady  superior  of 
the  Augustine  convent  of  Chinon,  to  which  he  was 
returning  his  daughter,  happened  to  be  an  aunt  of  the 
Chevalier  d'Anguilhem. 


64  SYLVANDIRE. 


IV. 


IN  WHICH  THE  AUTHOR  DEMONSTRATES  THAT  FATHERS  AND 
MOTHERS  OF  DAUGHTERS  IN  CONVENTS  CAN  SLEEP  ON 
BOTH    EARS. 

EuT  Roger  had  borne  it  in  mind,  and  this  is  wliat  had 
kept  him  from  yielding  to  utter  despair.  He  remembered 
even,  if  his  childish  memories  were  not  at  fault,  that  he 
had  been  a  great  favorite  with  that  good  aunt  whom  he 
had  formerly  visited  with  his  mother  on  two  or  three 
occasions,  and  who,  in  turn,  had  as  often  come  to  Anguil- 
hem ;  yet  Koger  experienced  some  pangs  in  the  dej^ths  of 
his  heart  for  having  been  less  attentive  to  her  at  that 
period,  or  rather  at  those  different  periods,  than  he  should 
have  been. 

Indeed,  he  recalled  the  innumerable  cares,  attentions, 
and  civilities  lavished  on  himself  which  had  then  ap- 
peared irksome  and  fatiguing,  and  which,  on  the  contrary, 
ought  to  have  filled  him  with  gratitude.  Among  other 
cloistral  diversions,  Roger  had  not  forgotten  how  reluc- 
tantly he  had  been  forced,  during  the  whole  time  of  his 
sojourn  at  Chinon,  to  engage  in  mass  and  vespers,  and 
that,  too,  in  spite  of  the  angelic  singing  of  the  nuns, 
novices,  and  boarding-school  girls,  which  accompanied 
the  divine  service.  Ah  !  well,  only  see  how  fickle  in 
his  tastes  and  changeable  in  his  desires  is  man.  At  pres- 
ent, his  highest  ambition  was  to  attend  those  religious 
ceremonies,  to  try  to  recognize,  among  all  those  angel 
voices,  the  voice  of  Constance  soaring  melodiously  to- 
ward heaven  ;  only  to  see  amid  that  white  flock  of  the 


IN   THE   CONVENT.  55 

Lord's,  that  figure,  so  ethereal,  so  light,  so  pure,  that  she 
seemed  to  belong  to  some  unknown  dream-world,  which, 
for  the  time  being,  had  lent  her  to  ours,  and  which  threat- 
ened each  hour  to  recall  her. 

Above  all,  Roger  dimly  remembered  in  his  aunt's  room 
a  certain  window  that  overlooked  a  garden  where  the  nuns 
walked  in  hours  of  recreation  ;  a  window  at  which  — 
he  really  could  not  understand  his  blindness  —  he  had 
scarcely  looked.  All  this  had  been  seething  in  the  young 
man's  mind  ever  since  he  learned  that  Mademoiselle  de 
Beuzerie  was  at  school  in  the  convent  directed  by  his  aunt. 
The  tender  love  of  that  good,  kind  aunt  recurred  to  his 
heart,  and  he  thought  he  owed  her  some  atonement  for 
the  slight  appreciation  that  he  had  displayed  for  her 
favors.  His  atonement  should  take  the  form  of  a  visit, 
during  which  he  would  devote  himself  assiduously  to  his 
duties  as  Christian  and  nephew,  attending  services  regu- 
larly and  entertaining  his  aunt,  especially  when  she  sat  in 
that  charming  little  room  overlooking  the  garden.  The 
visit,  then,  was  a  settled  thing  ;  but,  it  is  quite  under- 
stood, in  petto,  and  without  the  chevalier's  having  con- 
sulted any  one  as  to  its  expediency. 

Consequently,  one  morning,  before  daylight,  Roger  left 
the  house,  saddled  Christopher,  and,  that  no  serious  un- 
easiness should  be  felt  on  his  account,  informed  the 
stable-boy  that  he  was  to  be  gone  four  or  five  days. 

From  Anguilhem  to  Chinon  was  a  distance  of  about 
twenty-four  leagues.  "Without  overdoing  Christopher, 
therefore,  it  was  a  matter  of  two  days.  Indeed,  on  that 
same  night,  Roger  slept  at  Sainte  Maure,  a  little  town 
situated  about  midway  of  the  distance  to  be  made,  and  on 
the  next  day  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  was  at 
Chinon. 

Although  it  was  six  or  eight  years  since  the  chevalier  had 


56  SYLVANDIRE. 

visited  his  aunt,  he  liad  not  forgotten  the  way  to  tlie  con- 
vent. He  tlierefore  proceeded  straiglit  lo  the  Augustines, 
without  needing  to  ask  the  way  of  any  one,  and  knocked 
at  tlie  door  of  the  saintly  community.  As  the  convent  of 
the  Augustines  was  very  strictly  kept,  the  attendant  nun 
who  came  to  open  the  door  began  to  knit  her  brows  in  a 
formidable  nuumer  at  sight  of  a  tall,  handsome  youth  de- 
manding entrance  into  that  holy  asylum,  but,  upon  his 
naming  and  defining  the  degree  of  relationship  between 
him  and  the  mother  superior,  he  saw  the  face  of  the  ven- 
erable concierge  suddenly  relax,  and  the  doors  open  as 
of  their  own  accord.  Five  minutes  later,  the  Chevalier 
Roger  TancrMe  was  respectfully  kissing  the  plump  hand 
of  his  good  aunt. 

She  was  one  of  those  charming  abbesses  of  whom  tlie 
aristocratic  traditions  of  the  grand  century  have  handed 
portraits  down  to  us,  —  neither  too  large  nor  too  small, 
plump,  comfortable,  perfect  confections  of  gentle  speech 
and  pious  aspect,  who  found  means,  even  while  observing 
the  rules  of  the  order,  to  impart  to  their  garb  a  grace  and 
coquetry  savoring  indeed  of  worldliness,  but  which,  nev- 
ertheless, one  did  not  know  just  where  to  attack.  She 
was,  moreover,  a  younger  sister  of  Madame  d'Anguilhem, 
and  born,  like  her,  a  La  Roche  Berthaud,  that  is,  de- 
scended from  one  of  the  oldest  and  noblest  families  in 
Touraine. 

The  good  superior,  who  had  never  entertained  any  but 
holy  thoughts,  was  very  far  from  suspecting  the  motive 
which  brought  her  nephew  to  Chinon.  She  gave  orders 
that  Christopher  should  be  led  to  the  stables,  and  that 
the  excellent  creature,  whose  life  for  some  time  past  had 
been  so  very  eventful,  should  receive  the  best  possible 
care.  As  for  Roger,  he  was  simultaneously  conducted  to 
his  apartment,  an  apartment  under  lock  of  the  superior's 


IN   THE   CONVENT.  57 

key,  and  consisting  of  a  large  and  a  small  room.  Now, 
the  little  room  was  that  very  little  chamber  so  coveted  by 
Roger,  which  looked  out  upon  the  cloister. 

Roger's  interview  with  his  aunt  had  been  most  touch- 
ing. It  had  been  three  years  since  the  good  lady  had  seen 
either  the  baron  or  the  baroness ;  and,  in  three  years, 
Roger  had  grown  so  tall,  and  he  was  so  changed,  that  at 
first  sight  the  venerable  superior  had  been  slow  to  iden- 
tify him,  and  had  almost  withdrawn  the  hand  which,  in 
his  joy  on  at  last  finding  himself  within  the  walls  of  the 
convent  that  held  the  object  of  his  love,  the  chevalier 
had  too  enthusiastically  pressed.  But,  at  Roger's  first 
words  of  the  baron  and  the  baroness,  saying  that  he 
came  in  their  name,  full  of  anxiety  as  they  were  as  to 
her  health,  to  obtain  for  them  news  of  their  sister  and 
sister-in-law,  the  good  abbess  had  not  held  back.  Tall  boy 
as  he  had  grown,  she  folded  her  nephew  in  her  arms,  and 
in  a  very  motherly  way  returned  on  his  brow  the  kiss 
which  she  had  just  received  on  the  hand. 

It  was  all  Roger  could  desire  for  the  moment :  he  had 
gained  entrance. 

Nothing  was  to  be  hoped  for  on  that  evening;  besides, 
the  dear  child  must  be  so  tired  after  having  ridden  forty 
leagues  on  horseback,  that  all  exertion  was  forbidden  him 
until  the  next  morning.  In  his  aunt's  own  room  he  was 
served  with  a  charming  little  supper,  consisting  of  sliced 
chicken  with  jelly,  tarts,  and  preserves ;  then  he  was 
shut  in  his  room,  with  orders  to  go  to  bed  at  once,  and 
not  wake  up  until  it  was  time  for  the  morning  service, 

Roger  submitted,  not  wishing  to  excite  suspicion ;  he 
entered  his  room,  and  quite  philosophically  heard  the 
door  of  his  apartment  locked  behind  him  with  a  double 
turn.  It  is  true  that  he  still  had  the  window.  He  im- 
mediately ran  thither,   for  it  was   the  recreation   hour; 


58  SYLVANDIRE. 

but,  by  an  odious  fatality,  a  heavy  tliundcr-sturm,  -wliich, 
most  cortidnly,  liad  little  idea  of  what  it  was  about  at  the 
moineut,  had  just  burst  upon  Chinon;  consequently,  as 
the  convent  garden  afforded  no  shelter,  all  the  nuns,  the 
novices,  and  the  boarders  were  just  then  within  the 
cloister. 

Roger  saw  that,  so  long  as  that  pelting  storm  endured, 
he  would  be  wasting  his  time  waiting  for  any  one  to 
come  into  the  garden.  Surely,  had  Constance  known 
that  the  handsome  young  man  was  standing  there,  his 
heart  beating,  and  eyes  fixed  upon  the  garden  whither 
she  came  daily  to  play,  rain  could  not  have  stayed  her, 
and  in  spite  of  the  harm  that  might  result  to  her  little 
satin  slippers  and  beautiful  white  gown,  she  would  have 
felt  the  need  of  an  airing,  however  damp  and  unwhole- 
some it  was  at  the  time.  But  the  poor  child  believed 
herself  to  be  quite  separated  from  the  young  man  until 
the  vacation,  at  least,  perhaps  for  a  longer  time  still, 
perhaps  forever,  and,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  one  of  her 
friends,  she  was  walking  very  sadly  within  the  cloister, 
her  pretty  little  face,  pale  and  sad,  drooping  above  her 
breast. 

And  then  night  fell  quite  gently,  bringing  to  the  hori- 
zon beautiful  bands  of  gilded  clouds  that  clearly  indi- 
cated a  magnificent  day  for  the  morrow.  Roger  believed 
in  prognostics  of  that  kind.  On  the  evenings  preceding 
his  great  hunting  expeditions,  wliich,  before  he  had  seen 
Constance,  had  furnished  the  only  excitements  tliat  could, 
quicken  his  heart,  he  had  more  than  once  questioned  that 
celestial  barometer  which  the  inhabitants  of  our  country 
districts  so  skilfully  interpret.  He  was,  therefore,  en- 
tirely reassured  as  to  the  morrow. 

This  prospect  brought  him  one  of  the  best  nights  that 
he  had  enjoyed  for  eight  days.     He  fell  asleep,  confident 


IN   THE   CONVENT.  59 

of  the  future.  For,  at  fifteen,  what  is  the  future  ?  The 
uext  day,  three  or  four  Jays  perliaps,  —  a  weelc  at  most. 

In  tlie  morning  he  awoke  with  the  birds ;  scarcely 
were  his  movements  heard  before  an  aged  nun  rapped  at 
his  door.  Roger  hastened  to  open  it,  and  was  met  by  his 
early  breakfast.  The  early  breakfast  consisted  of  a  cup 
of  smoking  cream,  some  little  cakes  that  were  yet  hot,  and 
some  candied  fruits. 

Roger  found  the  fare  rather  cloistral,  indeed,  and  infi- 
nitely more  elegant  than  substantial.  However,  as  he 
understood  that  it  was  merely  an  instalment,  he  asked 
when  the  regular  breakfast  was  served.  He  was  told 
that  it  came  after  mass.  He  then  inquired  the  hour  of 
mass,  and  learned  that  it  began  at  nine  o'clock  and  ended 
at  eleven.  Upon  which,  Roger  drank  his  cream  to  the 
last  drop,  and  crunched  his  cakes  to  the  very  last  crumb. 
He  was  finishing  his  breakfast,  when  he  heard  the  rus- 
tling of  a  dress  along  the  parquet,  and  saw  his  door  open. 
It  was  the  good  aunt  coming  to  find  out  how  her  nephew 
had  passed  the  night,  whether  his  bed  had  been  soft, 
whether  he  had  slept  well,  whether  he  had  had  any  bad 
dreams,  et  cetera,  et  cetera. 

Roger  answered  cheerfully  all  these  inquiries ;  more 
than  that,  there  was  about  him  a  little  air  of  gaiety  and 
good  health  which,  to  eyes  less  solicitous  than  those  of 
his  kind  relative,  would  have  answered  of  itself.  He  was 
curled,  trim,  and  bewitching  enough  for  a  veritable  little 
abbe.  The  good  aunt  felt  an  unspeakable  desire  to  eat 
her  nephew. 

Yet  she  had  not  forgotten  the  infantine  grimaces  made 
by  the  dear  little  fellow,  five  or  six  years  before,  when- 
ever the  question  of  attendance  upon  divine  service  arose. 
So  she  thought  it  would  be  necessary  to  resort  to  some 
circumlocution  in  leading  up  to  the  subject  which  the 


60  SYLVANDIKE. 

devout  dame  conscientiously  believed  herself  forced  to 
broach  to  tlie  chevalier ;  but  to  her  great  astonishment, 
tlie  clievalier  met  her  with  the  response  that  since  the 
period  of  which  liis  aunt  was  speaking,  lie  was  very  niuch 
changed  in  his  attitude  toward  matters  of  religion  ;  that 
he  had  reflected  much  on  the  subject,  and  that  he  had 
come  to  regard  hearing  mass  and  vespers  every  day  not 
only  as  a  duty,  but  as  a  [jleasure  also.  Such  a  dct^laration 
overwhelmed  the  superior  with  joy.  She  gazed  at  her 
nephew  with  pious  affection,  and  declared  that  from  that 
moment  she  should  cherish  the  hope  of  there  being  a 
great  saint,  one  day,  in  the  Anguilhem  family,  as  there 
had  been  great  lawyers  and  great  captains,  the  nobility  of 
the  Anguilhems  being  of  both  gown  and  sword. 

Meanwhile,  the  bell  rang  for  mass.  Forced  to  put  into 
action  the  principles  which  he  had  just  professed,  Koger 
gallantly  ofiered  his  arm  to  his  aunt  to  conduct  her  to 
the  chapel  ;  but,  in  this,  Roger  was  deceived.  The  su- 
perior gave  him  to  understand  that,  during  the  interval 
of  six  years  which  had  rolled  away  since  she  had  seen 
him,  he  had  become  too  big  a  boy  and,  above  all,  too 
handsome  a  gentleman  to  enter  the  choir  with  her  and 
take  his  seat,  as  he  had  formerly  done,  on  the  steps  of 
her  stall.  He  must  simply  take  his  seat  with  the  congre- 
gation, outside  of  the  choir,  which  was  reserved  exclu- 
sively for  the  nuns,  novices,  and  boarders. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  submit  to  this  rule  ; 
besides,  by  insisting,  Eoger  would  undoubtedly  have  be- 
trayed the  influences  that  had  suddenly  rendered  him  so 
deeply  devout.  He  bowed  therefore  in  token  of  submis- 
sion, and  asked  that  he  be  shown  the  direction  he  must 
take  in  obedience  to  the  instructions  that  he  had  just 
received. 

The  convent  chapel  was  already  open  to  the  faithful. 


IN   THE   CONVENT.  61 

As  the  Augustine  dames  of  Chinon  riglitly  passed  for  hav- 
ing tlie  most  beautiful  voices  in  the  province,  the  divine 
service  at  the  convent  was  always  well  attended.  Koger 
slipped  into  the  front  row  of  auditors,  and  sat  in  as  close 
proximity  as  possible  to  the  grille  which  separated  the 
choir  from  the  nave. 

His  expectation  was  rewarded.  Above  all  those  virgin 
voices  which  were  lifted  heavenward,  he  distinguished 
cue,  so  sweet,  so  vibrant,  so  inspired,  that  he  did  not 
doubt  for  a  moment  that  the  voice  was  the  voice  of  Con- 
stance. After  that,  his  sole  purpose  was  to  follow  that 
voice  in  all  its  modulations,  without  for  an  instant  losing 
it  among  its  companion  voices.  Hanging  upon  those 
notes,  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  soul  rose  with  hers  to 
the  celestial  abode,  whither  she  was  going  to  sing  the 
glory  of  the  blessed,  and  again  returned  with  her  to 
earth,  to  which  she  descended  to  mourn  the  sins  and  sor- 
rows of  men,  all  the  time  soaring  above  earthly  sounds, 
like  the  nocturnes  drawn  from  the  ^olian  harps  by  the 
wind,  and  which  might  be  taken  for  strains  escaped  from 
the  concerts  of  the  spirits  of  air. 

As  long  as  the  mass  lasted,  Eoger  was  like  one  en- 
tranced. He  had  never  heard,  or  rather,  he  had  never 
listened  to  the  sacred  music  of  the  church,  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  all.  He  discovered  within  himself  answering 
chords,  of  which  he  had  himself  been  ignorant,  chords 
which  vibrated  to  the  depths  of  his  soul,  being  awakened 
at  once  by  the  double  touch  of  love  and  religion. 

Mass  had  been  over  for  some  time,  and  Roger  still 
knelt  before  the  grating  of  the  choir.  Throughout  the 
sacred  service  the  good  superior  had  closely  observed 
him,  and  she  had  been  edified  by  the  profound  rapture 
depicted  upon  the  face  of  her  nephew  every  time  the 
choir  began  to  sing.     And  she  awaited  his  reappearance 


62  SYLVANDIRE. 

to  congratulate  liim  upon  the  change  wrought  within  him, 
and  which  she  no  longer  doubted,  now  tliat  she  had  with 
her  own  eyes  beheld  the  symptoms.  Hence  she  was  not 
at  all  surprised  when  Roger  asked  to  withdraw  a  short 
time  to  his  own  room,  there  to  recover  from  the  mysteri- 
ous emotions  that  he  had  just  experienced.  Not  only  did 
the  worthy  superior  give  assent,  but,  carried  away  by  the 
feeling  of  admiration  which  piety  so  profound  inspired  in 
her,  she  even  came  very  near  asking  the  young  neophyte 
for  his  benediction.  Roger  left  her  under  the  influence 
of  that  feeling  and  slowly  retired  to  his  room  ;  but  barely 
liad  he  given  the  key  a  double  turn,  when  he  ran  to  the 
window  and  opened  it. 

The  garden  was  thronged  with  young  girls,  who,  like 
bees,  flitted  from  flower  to  flower,  and  revealed  their  in- 
stinctive simplicity  or  pride,  some  in  weaving  wreaths  of 
marguerites,  periwinkles,  or  violets,  others  in  fashioning 
crowns  of  roses,  of  tulips,  or  of  lilies. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  group  of  girls  scattered 
here  and  there  like  flowers  themselves  amid  the  flowers, 
walked  two  of  their  number,  talking  in  low  tones  and 
glancing  uneasily  around  from  time  to  time,  as  if  to  assure 
themselves  that  no  one  was  listening.  One  of  the  two 
was  Constance.  Both  had  their  backs  turned  to  the  win- 
dow where  Roger  was  standing,  and  they  were  pursuing 
a  path  that  ended  at  a  wall ;  hence  it  was  evident  that,  on 
reaching  the  end  of  the  walk,  they  would  retrace  their 
steps.  This  is  just  what  happened.  The  two  girls  turned 
round  ;  Constance  raised  her  eyes  mechanically  toward 
the  window.  The  young  girl  recognized  Roger,  and,  un- 
able to  control  her  surprise,  she  gave  a  cry  of  joy  and 
astonishment. 

The  chevalier  had  been  seen,  that  was  all  he  desired. 
He  stepped  back. 


IN   THE   CONVENT.  63 

The  cry  uttered  by  Constance  had  been  so  shrill  that 
her  young  companions  came  flocking  about  her  to  discover 
the  cause  of  it.  Constance  shrank  back  as  a  flower  folds 
upon  its  stem,  and  answered  that  she  had  stepped  on  a 
pebble,  her  ankle  had  turned,  and  she  was  at  first  afraid 
that  it  was  sprained. 

The  poor  child  came  very  near  sufi'ering  the  penalty  of 
her  untruth,  for  she  was  instantly  threatened  with  the 
convent  doctor,  whom  twenty  at  once  of  her  officious  com- 
panions proposed  to  call.  But  Constance  insisted  with 
such  truthful  emphasis  that  she  no  longer  felt  any  pain, 
that  the  girls  who  had  gathered  around  went  away  one 
after  the  other,  as  birds  flit  one  by  one,  and,  in  a  little 
while  they  were  again  scattered  about  the  garden.  Con- 
stance remained  alone  with  her  friend. 

Soon  the  eyes  of  the  two  girls  were  slowly  turned  in 
the  direction  of  the  window,  and  Roger  clearly  saw  that 
there  was  no  secret  between  the  two  fair  creatures.  Then 
he  advanced,  taking  care,  however,  to  keep  in  such  a  light 
as  to  be  seen  only  by  those  who  knew  of  his  presence. 
Constance  leaned  against  her  friend's  shoulder,  and 
blushed  deliciously.  Then  she  rose,  and  began  to  pick 
a  bunch  of  pansies,  Avhich  she  placed  in  the  sash  about 
her  waist,  and  whose  deep  purple  stood  out  in  relief 
against  her  white  dress.  And  then,  after  walking  about 
a  few  moments,  the  two  girls  went  indoors.  An  instant 
later  Roger  heard  steps  in  the  corridor.  He  ran  to  his 
door,  but,  quickly  as  he  opened  it,  he  was  too  late.  He 
saw  nothing  but  two  sylph-like  forms,  two  shadows,  two 
visions  vanishing  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  gallery.  But 
in  front  of  his  door,  as  the  sole  trace  of  the  flight  of  the 
two  school-girls,  lay  the  bunch  of  pansies  which,  a  mo- 
ment before,  he  had  seen  in  Constance's  sash. 

Roger  pounced  upon  the  bouquet,  and  kissed  it  again 


64  SYLVANDIKE. 

and  again  ;  tlien,  as  lie  heard  the  footsteps  of  liis  aunt, 
who,  thinking  that  ho  must  have  recovered  from  liis  re- 
ligious emotions,  was  coming  for  him  to  go  to  breakfast, 
he  quickly  slipped  the  bouquet  into  his  breast,  and  hasr 
tened  to  meet  the  worthy  superior. 

^Nothing  so  emboldens  one  as  success.  The  chevalier 
had  seen  Constance  at  a  distance,  and  had  been  seen  by 
her.  He  had  pressed  against  his  heart  the  flowers  that 
she  had  worn  ;  it  was  more  than  he  had  hoped  for  at  first, 
and  yet  it  was  already  not  enough.  He  desired  to  meet 
her.  He  must  speak  with  her ;  and  he  lay  in  wait  for  the 
first  opportunity,  ready  to  seize  it  by  the  forelock  when- 
ever it  presented  itself.  The  good  superior  herself  gave 
it  to  him. 

One  can  understand  that  the  conversation  between 
Roger  and  his  aunt  was  an  interminable  exchange  of 
questions  on  the  one  side  and  answers  on  the  other.  At 
first  the  questions  related  to  the  baron  and  the  baroness, 
then  to  the  farmers,  and  then  to  the  land ;  from  this 
they  passed  to  the  nearest  neighbors,  Avho  were  the  Senec- 
teres,  then  from  the  Senecteres  they  went  on  to  the  Che- 
milles  ;  at  last,  leaving  the  Chemill^s,  they  reached  the 
Beuzeries. 

"  Ah,  hon  Dieu  !  "  cried  Roger  on  hearing  that  name, 
*'  how  fortunate,  dear  aunt,  that  you  have  reminded  me 
of  a  commission  which  I  had  utterly  forgotten.  Three  or 
four  days  before  my  departure  for  Chinon  I  met  Mon- 
sieur de  Beuzerie  when  out  hunting,  and,  as  he  knew  I 
was  about  to  make  you  a  visit,  he  begged  to  charge  me 
with  a  letter  for  his  daughter.  Now,  what  I  have  done 
with  that  letter,  which  he  sent  me  on  the  day  before  my 
departure,  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea." 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu  !  "  exclaimed  the  good  superior,  "  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  you  have  not  lost  it.     The  poor  little 


IN    THE    CONVEXT.  65 

girl  has  been  very  sad  since  her  return,  and  that  letter 
would  have  been  a  comfort  to  her." 

"  Indeed,  aunt,"  said  Roger,  "  I  will  search  for  it ;  ifc 
must  be  in  my  portmanteau.  But  if  Mademoiselle  de 
Beuzerie  is  sad  you  should  give  her  a  doll,  for  she  is  still 
a  mere  child,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  K'ot  so  fast,  my  practical  man,"  returned  the  superior. 
"  You  are  wrong ;  in  a  month  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie 
has  become  a  young  woman.  I  do  not  know  what  hap- 
pened to  her  during  her  stay  with  her  parents,  but  I  do 
know  that  she  is  no  longer  recognizable." 

"  But,"  said  Roger,  "  I  dined  with  her  at  Anguilhem 
barely  eight  or  ten  days  ago,  an<l  I  must  say,  aunt,  that 
I  did  not  observe  the  slightest  trace  of  what  you  are 
saying." 

"  Well,  listen,"  said  the  good  superior,  "  do  you  go  and 
look  for  the  letter,  and  I  will  summon  Constance.  You 
shall  judge  for  yourself." 

"  Certainly, "  said  Roger,  bending  over  to  pick  up  his 
napkin,  for  he  felt  the  blood  rushing  to  his  face  at  such  a 
rate  that  he  knew  his  blush  would  betray  him  if  his  aunt 
chanced  to  glance  at  him,  "  certainly,  aunt ;  but,"  con- 
tinued he,  with  an  effort  at  self-control,  "  after  breakfast, 
if  you  please." 

"  Yes,  yes,  eat  your  breakfast,  my  boy,  eat  your  break- 
fast in  peace.  At  your  age  it  is  an  important  matter, 
I  know  ;  but  I  beg  that  you  will  try  to  find  that  let- 
ter, for  if  it  is  lost  the  poor  child  will  be  in  despair,  I  am 
sure." 

"  Oh,  it  shall  be  found,  my  dear  aunt !  You  need  not 
be  anxious.     I  think  I  remember,  now,  where  it  is." 

"  I  am  delighted  !  "  returned  the  abbess.  "  My  poor 
little  girls,  how  I  love  them  !  " 

"  Well,  aunt,"  resumed  d' Anguilhem,  "  I  will  not  de- 

5 


66  SYLVANDIEE. 

lay  any  longer  the  pleasure  that  you  think  this  letter  will 
aUbrd  to  ]\raJemoiselIe  Je  Beuzerie.  Send  for  her,  and  I 
will  proceed  to  look  for  the  paternal  epistle." 

And  Roger  went  out  of  the  room  with  such  an  easy 
air  that,  had  the  superior  entertained  any  suspicions, 
she  could  not  have  preserved  them  in  the  face  of  such 
assurance ;  hut  she  was  a  hundred  leagues  from  hav- 
ing any.  She  was,  therefore,  completely  the  dupe  of 
the  chevalier. 

Roger  delayed  his  return  for  two  reasons  :  first,  that  he 
might  have  time  to  write  a  letter  professedly  from  the 
viscount ;  secondly,  because  he  wished  to  give  Constance 
time  to  compose  herself.  As  to  the  contents  of  the  letter, 
the  reader  suspects  beforehand  ;  it  contained  a  conjuga- 
tion of  the  verb  "  to  love  "  in  the  past,  present,  and  future 
tenses.  Roger  also  informed  Constance  as  to  the  pass  to 
which  matters  had  come  between  him  and  the  viscount, 
giving  her,  word  for  Avord,  their  interview  in  the  warren 
at  Beuzerie.  It  was  important  that  Constance  should  be 
prepared,  and  should  not  permit  herself  to  be  taken  by 
surprise  by  any  strategy  on  the  part  of  her  parents. 

On  returning  Roger  found  JNIademoiselle  de  Beuzerie 
beside  his  aunt.  When  she  saw  him  Constance  blushed 
and  paled  by  turns ;  but  fortunately  her  back  was  toward 
the  window,  so  that,  placed  as  she  was  in  her  own 
shadow,  the  good  superior  observed  nothing.  Roger  ap- 
proached the  young  maiden  with  great  deliberation,  and 
presenting  the  letter,  said,  — 

"  Mademoiselle,  will  you  pardon  me,  arriving  as  I  did 
last  evening,  for  having  so  long  delayed  giving  you  this 
letter?  But  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  expressly  told  me  to 
give  you  the  letter  personally,  that  I  might  bring  him 
positive  news  of  your  health,  about  which  he  seemed 
quite  uneasy.     I  have,  therefore,  begged  my  good  aunt  to 


IN    THE    CONVENT.  67 

put  you  to  this  sliglit  incoiivenicjucc.  Yuu  will  pardon 
me,  will  you  not?" 

Constance  stammered  a  few  words  of  thanks ;  but,  as 
her  first  glance  at  the  letter  told  her  that  tlie  address  was 
not  in  her  father's  handwriting,  she  understood,  and  put 
it  in  her  apron  pocket  instead  of  opening  it. 

"  Well, "  said  the  superior,  taking  the  young  girl's  two 
hands  and  drawing  her  toward  herself,  "  well,  will  this 
letter  console  you  any,  naughty  little  pouter  1  for  I  have 
heard  about  you.  I  am  told  that  since  your  return  you 
do  nothing  but  moan  and  sigh." 

"  Why,  think  of  it,  aunt, "  interrupted  Roger,  who  saw 
that  the  poor  child  was  on  the  rack,  "  one  very  naturally 
cries  a  little  on  leaving  one's  parents.  Then  the  convent 
is  not  a  very  amusing  place,  is  it,  Mademoiselle  Con- 
stance 1    and  distractions  must  be  rare. " 

"  Well,"  said  the  abbess,  "  I  intend  to  give  you  one 
to-day,  my  dear  little  girl.  Instead  of  dining  in  the 
refectory  with  everybody,  you  shall  come  and  dine  with 
me  and  my  nephew." 

"  Oh,  how  delightful  !  "  cried  Constance,  unable  to 
conceal  her  first  impulse  of  joy. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  Roger,  realizing  that  he  must 
not  give  his  aunt  time  to  analyze  the  feeling  that 
had  wrested  from  Constance  the  exclamation  of  delight 
which  she  had  imprudently  allowed  to  escape  her ; 
"Mademoiselle,  am  I  to  have  the  happiness  of  being 
your  messenger  as  I  have  had  the  honor  of  being  Mon- 
sieur your  father's?  and  will  you  condescend  to  intrust 
me  with  an  answer  to  the  letter  I  have  brought  you?  " 

"  Are  you  then  leaving  so  soon,  monsieur  ?  "  asked 
Constance,   blushing, 

"Yes,"  returned  Roger,  "I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  be 
compelled  to  leave  Chinon  at  any  moment.     Alas  !  I  am 


68  SYLVANDIRE. 

in  the  hands  of  a  tutor,  and  I  confess  that  whenever  I 
hear  a  sound,  Avlieuever  a  door  is  opened,  I  expect  to  see 
the  shrewd  face  of  my  dear  Abbe  Dubuquoi.  Pray,  lose 
no  time  then,  I  beg,  if  you  wish  to  prolit  by  the  ojipor- 
tunity  that  I  offer  for  the  delivery  of  your  reply,  which, 
I  am  sure,  is  awaited  most  impatiently." 

"In  that  case,  monsieur,"  said  Constance,  "if  our 
good  motlicr  is  willing,  I  will  retire  to  read  the  letter 
that  you  have  brought,  and  to  answer  it. " 

"Go,  dear  child,  go,"  said  the  superior,  kissing  the 
girl's  forehead,  "  and  do  not  forget  that  we  expect  you 
to  dine  with  us  at  two  o'clock ;  besides,  I  will  send  to 
remind  you." 

"Oh!  that  will  not  be  necessary,  madarae, "  replied 
Constance.  "  It  affords  me  too  mucli  pleasure  to  be  with 
you  and  monsieur  your  nephew,  our  kind  country  neigh- 
bor, not  to  respond  promptly  to  your  kind  invitation." 

And,  quite  recovered  from  her  first  embarrassment, 
Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  made  a  most  coquettish  little 
courtesy,  and  Avithdrew,  her  hand  on  the  letter  that  she 
kept  in  her  pocket,  while  Hoger  watched  her  departure 
with  his  band  over  the  bunch  of  flowers  which  he  Avas 
pressing  to  his  heart. 

Constance  kept  her  word ;  she  was  more  than  prompt. 
At  a  quarter  before  two  she  was  in  the  superior's  room 
•where  Roger  was  waiting  for  her.  As  she  entered  he 
asked  if  she  had  remembered  her  letter.  Thereupon, 
Constance,  full  of  blushes,  drew  from  her  girdle  a  pretty 
little  note  addressed  to  the  Vicomte  de  Beuzerie,  which 
she  delivered  to  Roger,  but  without  having  strength 
even  to  commend  it  to  his  care.  As  for  Roger,  under 
the  pretext  of  fearing  to  lose  it,  he  went  off  immediately 
to  secure  it  in  his  portfolio,  he  said,  but  in  reality  to 
devour  the  lines  that  she  had  enclosed. 


IN   THE   CONVENT.  69 

It  was  one  of  those  charming  child-compositions,  very 
naive,  very  affectionate,  very  sincere,  full  of  promises 
of  undying  love,  born  yesterday  and  sworn  to  last  till 
death.  All  those  protestations  covered  four  pages,  and 
yet  this  could  have  been  reduced  to  three  words :  "  I  love 
you."  Roger  first  kissed  the  envelope,  then  the  four 
pages  of  tlie  letter,  back  and  front,  then  every  line  of 
tlie  four  pages,  and  finally  every  word  of  every  line. 
Plis  delight  resembled  delirium. 

He  returned  and  found  Constance  blushing  like  a 
cherry.  The  two  poor  children  exchanged  a  look  full 
of  unspeakable  happiness.  At  that  moment,  the  door 
opened,  and  the  superior  gave  a  pleased  cry.  At  this 
outburst,  the  two  young  people  turned,  and  their  eyes, 
all  shining  with  happiness,  became  clouded  with  tears. 

The  person  whose  unexpected  appearance  had  elicited 
a  cry  of  pleasure  from  tlie  superior  was  the  Baronne 
d'Anguilliem. 

The  two  sisters  embraced,  while  the  poor  children 
glanced  significantly  at  each  other,  as  if  to  say,  "  All 
is  over."  Then  Roger  approached  his  mother,  who,  in- 
stead of  emljracing  him  as  she  had  just  embraced  his 
aunt,  merely  gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss.  As  for  Made- 
moiselle de  Beuzerie,  she  made  the  baroness  a  deep 
courtesy,  to  which  the  latter  responded  by  a  chilling 
inclination  of  the  head. 

The  two  children  stood  trembling;  but  the  baroness 
said  nothing,  and  after  the  first  greetings  exchanged 
with  her  sister,  she  accepted  the  latter's  invitation  to 
place  herself  at  the  table. 

Constance  longed  to  ask  to  be  excused,  but  she  dared 
not.  Her  place  was  between  the  baroness  and  tlie  supe- 
rior, hence,  during  the  entire  dinner,  she  dared  not  raise 
her  eyes;    more   than   once,   indeed,   Roger  surprised  a 


70  SYLVANDIRE. 

tear  as  it  stealthily  rolled  down  her  cheek,  and  was 
deftly  brushed  away  with  her  napkin. 

As  for  him,  he  blushed  and  turned  pale  ten  times  a 
minute.  He  tried  to  eat,  but  his  heart  was  so  full  that 
the  feat  was  impossible. 

Meanwhile,  the  baroness  was  telling  how  it  had 
occurred  to  her  also  to  surprise  her  dear  sister,  and  how 
the  baron  had  been  unable  to  accompany  her,  detained  as 
he  was  by  his  preparations  for  a  journey  that  he  contem- 
plated taking  with  the  chevalier  immediately  upon  the 
latter's  return  to  Anguilhem.  At  this  news  of  the 
chevalier's  prospective  journey,  poor  Constance's  tears 
precipitated  themselves  more  rapidly,  and  the  chevalier 
felt  his  heartache  increase.  At  last,  Constance  could 
contain  herself  no  longer;  she  threw  herself  back  and 
sobbed  aloud.  In  this  unlooked-for  explosion,  the  good 
abbess  beheld  no  more  than  the  young  girl 's  grief,  and 
she  questioned  her  —  we  must  do  her  this  justice  —  with 
a  mother's  anxiety.  But  Constance  only  made  answer 
that  she  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter  except  that  it 
was  probably  what  people  called  the  blues,  and  that  she 
would  ask  permission  to  retire  to  her  room. 

This  permission  Avas  the  more  readily  accorded  her  as 
Madame  la  Baronne  d'Anguilhem  did  not  at  all  press  her 
to  remain.  Constance  withdrew  therefore  without  one 
consoling  word ;  for,  restrained  by  his  mother's  presence, 
E/Oger  did  not  dare  even  to  bid  her  good-bye. 

After  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  had  gone  and  the 
baroness  thought  that  she  must  have  re-entered  her  own 
room,  she  bade  her  son  go  to  his  apartment  and  without 
delay  prepare  his  portmanteau,  as  it  was  the  baron's 
order  that  he  should  set  out  that  same  evening  for 
Anguilhem.  Roger  obeyed  without  a  word  of  protest. 
Filial   respect  was   still,  at   that   period,  one   of   those 


IN   THE   CONVENT.  71 

precious  family  virtues  that  were  considered  sacred ,  espe- 
cially by  the  country  aristocracy,  that  sanctuary  of  the 
nobility.  He  therefore  very  meekly  saluted  his  mother 
and  retired  to  his  room. 

The  two  sisters  remained  together. 


72  SYLVANDIRE. 


V. 


HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM  ESCAPED  FROM 
THE  COLLEGE  OF  THE  JESUITS  AT  AMBOISE  WITH 
THE  INTENTION  OF  CARRYING  OFF  MADEMOISELLE 
DE  BEUZERIE,  AND  WHAT  NEWS  HE  LEARNED  ON 
REACHING   THE    CONVENT. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  tell  the  reader  upon  what  topic 
the  conversation  of  the  two  ladies  turned.  Let  us  say 
merely  that  at  the  end  of  an  hour  they  summoned  the 
chevalier,  Avho,  quite  crestfallen  in  his  discomfiture,  came 
with  his  little  portmanteau  under  his  arm. 

The  superior  knew  all.  She  had  sent  to  Constance  for 
the  letter  which  the  chevalier  had  brought  her,  pretend- 
ing it  to  be  from  the  viscount;  but  Constance  had  met  her 
friend  in  the  corridor,  and  had  quickly  slipped  the  letter, 
her  only  treasure,  into  the  other's  hand.  Thereupon,  as 
no  one  knew  of  this  incident.  Mademoiselle  boldly 
replied  that  she  had  burned  the  letter  they  were  asking 
for,  and  that,  if  they  doubted  her,  they  had  only  to 
search  for  it;    and  they  did,  but  in  vain. 

The  baroness  had  come  with  the  horse  and  cariole, 
escorted  by  the  farmer.  Christopher  was  tied  at  the  side 
of  his  mate,  and  they  departed  after  a  brief  leavetaking, 
during  which  the  abbess  maintained  toward  her  nephew 
the  severe  dignity  befitting  her  wounded  pride. 

No  sooner  were  Madame  d'Anguilhem  and  her  son 
alone  in  the  cariole,  than  the  baroness,  observing  the 
chevalier's   sadness,    lost   all    power   to    exhibit   malice 


HOW    THE    CHEVALIER    ESCAPED.  73 

toward  the  poor  boy.  Women  have  an  instinctive  syin- 
pathy  for  all  the  pangs  of  love,  and  the  strictest  mother 
becomes  indulgent  when  a  fault  committed  by  the  heart 
is  in  question.  Thus,  instead  of  the  dire  reproaches 
expected  by  the  chevalier,  there  followed  a  train  of 
thoroughly  logical  arguments,  based,  first,  upon  the 
chevalier's  age,  which  was  barely  fifteen  years;  then 
upon  the  difference  between  the  fortunes  of  the  Beuzeries 
and  the  d'Anguilhems;  and  finally  upon  the  plans  long 
cherished  by  Constance's  father  and  tlie  father  of  the 
Comte  de  Croisey.  But  to  all  this  reasoning  Roger 
opposed  the  following  dilemma,  as  unanswerable  and  as 
powerful  as  all  the  logic  in  the  Avorld :  — 

"  Mother,  I  love  Constance,  Constance  loves  me,  and 
we  are  firmly  resolved  to  die  if  we  are  separated." 

During  the  two  days  of  the  journey's  duration,  the 
baroness  attacked  her  son  at  all  points ;  but  she  exhausted 
her  logic  without  being  able  to  obtain  any  response  save 
the  one  we  have  given. 

When  the  chevalier's  disappearance  had  become  known, 
a  grand  council  was  held  at  Anguilhem.  The  council  was 
composed  of  the  baron,  the  baroness,  and  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi.  Now,  the  road  he  had  taken  had  been  learned 
on  the  daj^  of  Roger's  departure,  and,  the  direction  once 
known,  it  had  not  been  difficult  to  guess  whither  he  was 
bound.  The  especial  question  before  the  council  concerned 
the  means  to  be  employed  in  checking  the  progress 
of  this  love  affair,  which  was  exhibiting  such  alarming 
symptoms  ;  or,  at  least,  if  it  progressed,  to  prevent  its 
resulting  in  a  serious  breach  between  the  two  families. 
The  d'Anguilhems  and  the  Beuzeries  had  always  lived 
on  excellent  terms  as  neighbors,  and  it  was  the  intention 
of  the  baron  and  the  baroness  still  to  maintain,  on  their 
part,   at  least,   those  pleasant  relations. 


74  SYLVANDIRE. 

The  decision  arrived  at  by  the  triumvirate  was  to  the 
efifect  tliat,  on  his  return  to  Anguilhera,  the  chevalier 
should  be  sent  off  to  the  College  of  the  Jesuits  at 
Amboise  to  pursue  a  course  in  philosophy.  Upon  this 
verdict  the  baroness  set  out  to  expedite  his  return,  while 
the  baron,  as  Madame  d'Anguilhem  had  told  her  son, 
made  preparations  himself  to  conduct  Koger  to  the  capital 
of  the  province,  lest  he  should  play  some  prank  upon  his 
tutor  while  on  the  way. 

Arriving  at  Anguilhem  two  days  after  his  departure 
from  Chinon,  the  chevalier,  therefore,  found  everything 
ready  for  their  start  twenty-four  hours  later.  Needless 
to  say,  any  thought  of  rebellion  against  the  parental 
decree  was  far  from  his  mind.  In  the  presence  of  his 
sweetheart,  the  chevalier  felt  himself  already  a  young 
man;  but  when  confronting  the  baron  and  the  baroness, 
he  promptly  realized  that  he  was  still  only  a  child. 

The  journey  was  a  dreary  one.  Between  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi,  for  whom  he  had  no  deep  affection,  and 
his  father,  Avhose  severity  of  countenance  momentarily 
checked  his  tender  feelings,  Roger  was  very  ill  at 
ease.  Besides,  the  thought  that  he,  a  child  of  the 
woods,  of  the  meadows,  and  of  freedom,  would  have  to 
spend  a  whole  year  in  a  kind  of  prison  with  a  throng 
of  people  robed  in  black,  who  would  impose  the 
rules  of  their  order  upon  his  life,  this  thought,  I  say, 
weighed  upon  him  as  being  a  punishment  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  the  fault  he  had  committed.  Then,  a  whole 
year  without  seeing  Constance,  —  it  was  a  century. 

From  time  to  time,  it  is  true,  there  flashed  through  his 
brain  a  plan  which  had  at  first  terrified  the  chevalier  but 
to  which,  nevertheless,  he  became  accustomed  by  dint  of 
thinking  about  it.  It  was  nothing  less  then  adding  aU 
the  little  savings  that  he  could  get  together  to  the  small 


HOW    THE   CHEVALIEE    ESCAPED.  75 

sum  which  the  baroness  had  ah-eady  given  him  at  parting 
and  that  wliich  his  father  would  no  doubt  give  when 
leaving  him ;  then,  when  he  should  find  himself  in  posses- 
sion of  two  or  three  hundred  livres,  which  in  the  eyes  of 
the  chevalier  was  a  fortune,  he  would  escape  from  the 
college,  set  out  for  Chinon,  scale  the  convent  wall,  carry 
oflf  Constance,  run  away  with  her,  and  be  married  by  the 
first  priest  they  met. 

Among  the  twenty-five  or  thirty  volumes  that  Roger 
possessed  in  his  library  at  Anguilhem,  there  was  a 
romance  entitled  "L'Astree, "  wliich  had  seen  its  best 
days  in  the  baroness'  youth,  and  in  which  flourished  any 
number  of  kings  who  carried  off  shepherdesses  and  of 
queens  who  espoused  shepherds.  Now,  Kogor  thought 
that,  however  great  the  pecuniary  distance  separating 
him  from  Constance,  it  was  not  to  be  compared  with  the 
social  distance  between  a  powerful  king  and  a  poor 
shepherdess,  or  a  great  queen  and  a  humble  shepherd. 
Then,  too,  there  is  an  age  at  which  one  thinks  that  life 
is  adjusted  like  a  novel,  and  Roger  had  reached  that  age; 
only,  what  he  did  not  know  was  that,  while  they  could 
run  away  together  at  that  age,  they  could  not  then  be 
married. 

In  extreme  situations,  such  as,  for  the  time  being,  we 
have  even  thought  hopeless,  it  is  amazing,  it  is  amazing, 
I  repeat,  to  what  extent  peace  is  yielded  to  the  mind  and 
resignation  to  the  heart  by  fixing  upon  a  course  of  con- 
duct, no  matter  what  it  lacks  of  common  sense,  let  it  pre- 
sent not  a  shadow  of  success.  Roger  well  knew  that, 
even  supposing  all  the  favorable  circumstances,  and  many 
such  would  be  required,  were  leagued  to  second  this  plan, 
it  could  be  carried  out  only  at  a  very  distant  date.  But, 
no  matter!  however  distant  the  hour,  by  adding  days  and 
months  together,  the  hour  must  come.     Point  out  to  the 


76  SYLVANDIRE. 

traveller,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  lost  in  the  darkness, 
wandering  in  a  forest,  ready  to  drop  from  weariness,  point 
out  a  light  upon  the  horizon,  be  that  horizon  two  or  three 
leagues  away,  and  the  poor  wanderer  will  pluck  up  cour- 
age and  walk  with  a  step  as  rapid  and  as  eager  as  in  the 
morning  at  the  time  of  setting  out. 

The  chevalier,  then,  had  already  regained  some  degree 
of  courage  on  his  arrival  at  Amhoise,  and  he  entered 
the  college  more  resigned,  apparently,  than  his  father 
had  hoped  for.  This  resignation  touched  the  worthy 
gentleman,  who,  it  must  be  said,  tenderly  loved  his 
sole  heir.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  paternal 
heart  melted,  and  the  result  of  the  softened  mood 
was  a  sum  of  seventy-two  livres,  represented  by  three 
louis  d'or  which  the  baron  slipped  into  his  son's  hand 
at  parting. 

These  three  louis,  added  to  the  other  two  that  the 
baroness  had  given  him,  formed  a  total  of  five  louis,  or 
one  hundred  and  twenty  livres,  which  was  already  a 
pretty  little  beginning  toward  his  savings. 

Roger  had  comprehended  that,  in  order  to  avoid  all 
suspicion,  he  must  begin  by  applying  himself  to  work 
with  exemplary  assiduity.  They  do  thorough  work,  as 
we  know,  among  the  Jesuits,  and  although  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi  was  a  preceptor  very  much  above  the  ordinary 
tutor,  the  good  fathers,  after  examining  Roger  on  what 
he  knew,  nevertheless  decided  that  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  review  his  rhetoric.  This  news,  which  prolonged 
to  two  years  his  one  year's  stay  in  college,  Roger  re- 
ceived with  greater  fortitude  than  the  abbe  expected 
from  him.  However,  as  the  abbe,  less  easily  deceived 
than  the  baron,  already  suspected  some  wile  to  be  under- 
lying that  appearance  of  resignation,  he  resolved  not  to 
lose  sight  of  his  pupil. 


HOW   THE   CHEVALIER   ESCAPED.  77 

But,  vigilant  and  farseeing  as  the  abbe  was,  in  tliis  he 
was  deceived.  The  clievalier's  was  one  of  those  fertile 
natures  in  which  ideas  have  only  to  be  sown  for  them 
to  bear  fruit.  Roger,  who  had  no  remedy  for  his  love 
but  Avork,  and  who,  indeed,  pretending  to  work,  shut 
himself  up  to  commune  with  Constance,  Roger  made 
rapid  progress;  young  things  easily  become  enamored. 
Our  school-boy  was  enamored  of  Greek  and  Latin  poetry  ; 
besides,  in  Virgil's  Bucolics,  in  the  Idyls  of  Theocritus, 
he  was  always  coming  upon  some  dialogue  between 
shepherd  and  shepherdess  that  reminded  the  pupil  of  his 
own  situation.  It  was  undoubtedly  meagre  comfort; 
but  meagre  though  it  was,  it  aided  our  lover  to  Avait. 

Roger's  first  care  had  been  to  ascertain  whether  among 
his  fellow  pupils  there  were  not  some  who  came  from 
Chinon.  Fortune  gave  Roger  his  desire;  three  of  his 
comrades  were  born  in  that  town,  and  their  parents  lived 
there.  The  new-comer  allied  himself  with  them,  and 
learned  with  a  joy  that  can  be  understood,  that  one  of 
the  three  young  men,  Henri  de  Narcey  by  name,  had 
a  sister  in  the  Augustine  convent.  Now,  as  the  sister 
had  been  three  years  at  the  convent  school ,  she  must  be 
intimately  acquainted  with  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie, 
or,  at  least,  she  must  know  her.  Here  were  the  means 
of  correspondence. 

Vacation  time  arrived.  As  Roger  had  entered  college 
only  in  June,  and  as  the  vacation  began  at  the  end  of 
August,  a  fear  which  had  more  than  once  beset  his  mind 
was  realized.  On  Our  Lady's  Day,  he  received  from  the 
Baron  d'Anguilhem  a  letter  in  which  the  worthy  gen- 
tleman employed  all  his  logic  to  explain  to  his  son  that 
the  latter  would  do  much  better  to  spend  his  six  weeks' 
vacation  in  studying  and  making  up  for  lost  time,  than 
to  return  to  Anguilhem.     The  truth  was  that  the  baron 


78  SYLVANDIEE. 

and  the  baroness  were  depriving  themselves  of  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  their  son,  lest  the  neighborhood  of 
Beuzerie  should  rekindle  in  the  chevalier's  heart  the 
love  which  they  thouglit  about  extinguished,  because 
Iloger  no  longer  wrote  of  it.  Also,  to  temper  this 
denial  as  much  as  possible  to  the  poor  student,  the  Abb^ 
Dubuquoi  was  authorized  to  take  him  on  excursions  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Tours,  and,  as  no  one  knew  how 
parsimoniously  the  chevalier  had  managed  his  little 
hoard,  the  abbe  was  requested  to  give  his  pupil,  out  of 
the  funds  intrusted  to  his  administration,  two  louis 
from  the  baron  and  one  louis  from  the  baroness.  Now, 
as  Roger  had  spent  but  twenty-four  livres  during  the 
three  months  which  had  just  rolled  away,  he  conse- 
quently found  himself  seven  louis  ahead. 

Roger,  then,  had  become  intimate  with  the  three 
youths  from  Chinon,  and  particularly  with  Henri  de 
Narcey.  Also,  when  the  latter  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving  for  Chinon,  the  chevalier  did  not  hesitate  to 
unburden  his  heart  to  him.  He  told  how  he  had  loved 
Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  and  how  she  loved  him;  how 
he  had  been  sent  to  college  at  Amboise  because  his 
parents  disapproved  of  a  love  that  did  not  meet  with  the 
approbation  of  Constance's  parents;  and  how,  finally, 
he  was  to  be  detained  at  college  lest,  during  his  stay  at 
Anguilhem,  he  should  commit  some  imprudent  act  upon 
finding  himself  so  near  Beuzerie. 

Henri  de  Narcey  understood  it  all  perfectly,  and  he 
enlisted  himself  and  his  sister  in  the  service  of  his 
comrade.  Communication  would  be  easily  opened, 
because  he  had  often  heard  his  sister  speak  of  Mademoi- 
selle de  Beuzerie,  and  always  as  an  intimate  friend. 
Indeed,  Constance  de  Beuzerie  and  Mademoiselle  Her- 
minie  de  jSTarcey  were  never  apart;  and  from  the  picture 


HOW   THE   CHEVALIER   ESCAPED.  79 

of  his  sister  that  Henri  drew  for  Roger,  the  latter  recog- 
nized the  young  girl  who  was  arm  in  arm  with  Con- 
stance on  the  day  when  he  saw  her  in  the  convent 
garden,  and  when,  at  sight  of  him,  Constance  had  been 
unable  to  repress  the  cry  of  surprise  which  she  had  been 
forced  to  pass  off  as  a  cry  of  pain, 

Roger  intrusted  a  letter  to  Henri ;  on  her  return  to 
the  convent  the  letter  was  to  be  delivered  by  Herminie 
to  Constance;  then,  under  cover  of  Herminie 's  letter  to 
her  brother,  Constance  could  send  back  her  answer. 
Roger  unfolded  to  Constance  his  plan  of  running  away 
from  college,  of  carrying  her  oflf  from  the  convent  and 
marrying  her  in  the  presence  of  the  cure  of  the  first 
village  that  he  came  to  on  the  road;  once  married,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  their  stubborn  parents  must  bestow 
their  blessing,  whatever  their  dislike  for  the  match. 
The  letter,  too,  was  full  of  pledges  of  inviolable  fidel- 
ity and  undying  love. 

The  vacation  arrived.  The  two  friends  parted,  Roger 
commending  his  interests  to  Henri,  Henri  swearing  to 
Roger  that  they  could  not  be  in  better  hands.  Septem- 
ber rolled  away  without  Roger's  manifesting  the  least 
impatience.  He  only,  of  all  his  comrades,  had  remained 
at  college ,  and  he  worked  in  a  way  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mands of  the  most  exacting.  The  Abbe  Dubuquoi  could 
make  nothing  out  of  it. 

At  the  beginning  of  October  the  students  began  to 
return;  but,  although  Henri  was  the  one  whom  Roger 
awaited  with  the  most  impatience,  Henri  was  the  last 
to  return.  True,  on  his  return  there  was  a  little  letter 
in  the  hand  that  Henri  extended  to  Roger. 

Oh  !  it  was  a  very  brief  little  letter  containing  only 
three  lines ;  but  those  three  lines  said  more  than  vol- 
umes.    Here  they  are :  — 


80  SYLVANDIRE. 

"I  love  you  no  less  than  you  love  me.  You  offer  me  your 
life.  I  give  you  mine.  Take  it,  then,  and  do  with  it  w  hat 
you  will. 

"Constance." 

It  would  seem  that  tlio  lihrary  of  I'euzerie  must  also 
have  contained  some  beautiful  and  alluring  romance  like 
"L'Astree,"  suited  to  form  the  heart  and  mind  of  a 
young  girl. 

Matters  had  progressed  wonderfully,  thanks  to 
Henri's  ingenuity.  As  all  letters  that  left  the  convent 
were,  naturally,  previously  examined,  just  as  he  was 
setting  off  for  Tours  he  had  feigned  indisposition. 
This  delay  had  given  the  Augustine  boarding-pupils 
time  to  re-enter  their  convent.  In  this  way  Herminie 
and  Constance  had  been  able  to  meet  again;  and  then, 
on  Henri's  departure,  he  had  made  a  farewell  visit  to 
his  sister,  who,  as  she  kissed  him,  had  slipped  the  little 
letter  from  Constance  into  his  hand. 

Roger  was  at  peace,  then,  from  that  time  forth.  Any 
effort  on  his  part  would  be  seconded  by  Constance.  His 
love  was  repaid  with  equal  love,  and  more,  with  the 
tenderness  and  the  devotion  that  constitute  the  everlast- 
ing superiority  of  woman's  love  over  ours. 

The  days  sped  on,  while  Roger,  faithful  to  his  scheme 
of  economy,  heaped  up  his  little  treasure  saved  from 
the  parental  largess.  Twice,  to  comfort  their  son  in  his 
exile,  which  he  was  enduring  for  that  matter  with  heroic 
resignation,  the  baron  and  the  baroness  visited  Tours. 
On  both  occasions  the  name  of  Constance  was  scarcely 
mentioned.  Hence,  on  their  second  return  to  Anguil- 
hem,  both  baron  and  baroness  were  convinced  that  their 
son  had  become  perfectly  reasonable  on  that  subject. 

By  the  end  of  six  or  eight  months,  therefore,  Roger 
had   lulled   every   suspicion   to   rest,   and,   as   he   had 


HOW   THE   CHEVALIER   ESCAPED.  81 

attained  his  sixteenth  year  and  completed  his  course  in 
rhetoric,  it  was  hinted  that,  if  he  promised  to  commit 
no  more  follies,  he  should  not  be  sent  back  to  college. 
Roger  promised  whatever  they  desired. 

lioger  had  turned  over  and  over  in  his  mind  a  thou- 
sand plans  of  escape,  each  more  unstable  than  the  other. 
It  was  no  easy  thing  for  any  student  to  escape,  and  still 
less  so  for  Roger  tlian  for  another,  since,  in  addition  to 
the  general  surveillance  of  the  good  Jesuit  fathers,  he 
was  still  under  the  particular  surveillance  of  Abbe 
Dubuquoi.  At  last  Roger  hit  upon  a  very  simple  plan, 
and  it  had  occurred  to  him  last  just  because  of  its 
simplicity. 

Like  all  the  pupils  who  had  attained  their  sixteenth 
year,  or  who  were  in  rhetoric  or  philosophy,  Roger  had 
a  private  room,  but  in  it,  for  the  sake  of  greater  precau- 
tion, the  abbe  slept.  True,  once  asleep,  the  abbe  slept 
soundly,  and  there  was  one  most  vociferous  sign  which 
proclaimed  when  he  was  enjoying  the  very  fulness  of 
sleep.  In  short,  and  to  be  brief,  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi 
possessed  the  infirmity  of  snoring. 

Here,  then,  is  what  Roger,  by  dint  of  hard  thinking, 
at  last  settled  upon. 

On  the  night  fixed  for  his  flight,  Roger  would  go  to 
bed  as  usual,  and  would  let  the  abbe  go  to  bed-  but  he 
would  take  good  care  to  observe  where  the  latter  placed 
his  clothes.  Then,  as  he  and  the  abbe  were  almost  of 
tlie  same  size,  after  the  lights  were  all  out,  and  by  the 
regular  snoring  of  the  abbe  he  felt  assured  that  his 
guardian  was  asleep,  he  would  softly  rise,  array  himself 
in  the  black  breeches,  black  coat,  and  bands,  cover  his 
head  with  the  dignity  of  the  three-cornered  hat,  and  get 
out  of  the  room  as  lightly  as  possible.  In  all  probability 
the  abbe  would  not  wake  until  the  next  morning  at  six 

6 


82  SYLVANDIRE. 

o'clock,  and,  in  that  case,  the  fugitive  would  have  eight 
or  ten  hours  the  start  of  any  who  might  attempt  to 
pursue. 

As  for  a  pretext  to  give  the  porter  for  going  out  at 
such  an  hour,  the  pretext  was  already  found.  Roger 
decided,  too,  that  his  escape  should  be  made  on  Wednes- 
day night.  He  had  calculated  that  he  would  require 
three  good  rests  in  going  from  Amboise  to  Chinon,  and, 
consequently,  he  would  arrive  there  on  Sunday.  Once 
there,  he  had  decided  upon  nothing  very  definite,  and 
counted  on  taking  counsel  of  circumstances.  Only,  he 
would  present  himself  to  the  attendant  as  an  abbe,  de- 
liver a  letter  from  Henri  to  his  sister,  and,  by  a  certain 
mark  contained  in  that  letter,  a  mark  unintelligible  to 
any  one  but  to  her,  Constance  would  know  that  Koger 
was  at  Chinon. 

The  day  of  that  momentous  Wednesday  glided  by  amid 
keenest  anguish  on  the  part  of  Roger;  but  he  had  cher- 
ished the  plan  too  long  to  draw  back  from  it  at  the 
moment  of  execution.  He  therefore  kept  face  and  voice 
under  control;  he  had  the  courage  to  do  his  theme  and 
his  translation.  Finally,  at  supper,  he  ate  as  usual  and 
was  ordinarily  gay.  Verily,  the  chevalier  was  predes- 
tined to  romantic  adventures,  and  had  received  from 
nature  all  the  qualities  requisite  for  their  achievement. 
At  nine  o'clock  the  abbe  and  the  chevalier  went  to  bed. 
The  abbe  laid  all  his  clothes  on  a  chair  near  his  bed; 
then  he  extinguished  the  light.  At  the  end  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  he  was  sleeping  heavily. 

Roger  waited  for  another  quarter  of  an  hour  to  pass. 
He  cautiously  crept  out  of  bed,  pausing  at  every  creak 
it  made.  Finally,  his  feet  touched  the  floor;  he  leaned 
against  the  wall  and  paused  a  moment.  The  abbe's 
snoring   continued    to   make    itself   heard   in   dignified 


HOW   THE   CHEVALIER   ESCAPED.  83 

periodicity.  All  was  going  well.  Then  he  advanced, 
his  hands  extended  in  the  dark,  until  he  touched  the 
chair  which,  for  the  time  heing,  was  affording  clothes- 
pegs  for  the  entire  tutorial  wardrobe.  He  transferred 
the  M^ardrobe  from  its  chair  to  his  bed,  and  there  began 
his  toilet,  which  was  accomplished  without  mishap.  At 
last,  the  toilet  complete,  "Roger,  being  perfectly  trans- 
formed from  head  to  foot  into  an  abbe,  opened  the  door 
as  gently  as  possible,  closed  it  in  like  manner,  listened 
to  discover  whether  his  various  movements  had  won  the 
tutor  from  his  sleep,  gained  the  staircase,  descended  to 
the  court,  Avhere,  knocking  boldly  at  the  porter's  lodge, 
he  declared,  — 

"It  is  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier 
d'Anguilhem's  tutor.  j\Ionsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Anguil- 
hem  is  very  ill,  and  I  am  going  for  a  doctor." 

Half  asleep,  the  porter  recognized  through  the  case- 
ment the  abbe's  garb,  drew  the  cord  as  he  muttered 
something  which  Roger  did  not  understand,  and  Roger 
found  himself  outside.  His  first  impulse  was  to  run 
straight  ahead,  but,  after  ten  minutes  of  racing,  he 
stopped  abruptly;  he  was  about  to  pitch  into  the  Loire. 

There,  he  took  his  bearings.  He  knew  that  Chinon 
was  nearly  twenty-five  leagues  from  Amboise,  and  that, 
in  order  to  reach  the  former  town,  he  had  only  to 
follow  the  river's  course.  But  there  were  two  ways  of 
doing  this,  along  the  left  bank  and  along  the  right. 
Roger  decided  in  favor  of  the  right  bank.  That  route 
was  longer  by  three  or  four  leagues,  it  is  true,  but  it 
offered  him  greater  security  against  being  overtaken. 
Thereupon  he  crossed  between  decks  and  walked  all 
night  without  stopping,  arriving  at  Rouvray  about  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  There,  fatigue  forced  him  to 
make  a  halt.     He  had  gone  eiglit  leagues  at  a  stretch. 


84  SYLVANDIRE. 

He  stopped  at  an  inn,  throw  hiiiisolf  on  a  bcil,  and 
onlored  that  lie  sliould  be  awakened  at  ten  o'clock.  His 
intention  was  to  set  out  again  as  soon  as  he  had  break- 
fasted. 

When  undressing,  Eoger  became  aware  that,  in  addi- 
tion to  his  own  purse,  which  he  had  slipped  into  one 
pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  he  was  also  in  possession  of  the 
abbe's  purse,  which  had  remained  in  the  other  pocket. 
As  the  money  it  contained  belonged  to  his  father,  Roger, 
instead  of  conceiving  any  scruples,  rejoiced  greatly  at 
the  circumstance  which  increased  his  funds  by  four 
louis  and  a  half  crown,  or  ninety -nine  livres.  The 
chevalier  had  now  the  wherewithal  to  proceed  to  the  end 
of  the  world. 

While  Roger  was  breakfasting,  his  host  entered  to 
tell  him  that  a  boatman  who  was  descending  the  Loire 
and  seeking  passengers  all  along  the  route  had  sent  to 
inquire  if  he  would  not  like  to  continue  his  journey  by 
water.  Roger  was  delighted  with  the  idea,  since  his 
trail  would  more  easily  be  lost  by  water  than  by  land, 
a  boat's  way  on  a  stream  being  as  difficult  to  discover  as 
any  of  those  ranked  by  King  Solomon,  of  proverbial  and 
poetic  fame,  as  past  finding  out. 

Roger  therefore  replied  that  if  his  journey  would  lose 
nothing  in  speed  by  the  proposed  mode  of  locomotion, 
he  would  accept  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  The  land- 
lord assured  him  that,  far  from  losing,  he  would  gain, 
since,  by  that  mode,  he  could  travel  day  and  night. 
This  assurance  so  won  Roger  that,  although  the  boat 
would  not  leave  for  two  hours,  he  charged  the  host  to 
engage  his  place  at  once.  True,  the  advantage  of  trav- 
elling all  night  easily  made  up  the  loss  of  two  hours. 
However,  when  the  inn-keeper  was  going  away,  Roger 
called  him  back  to  learn  who  were  to  be    his    fellow- 


HOW    THE    CHEVALIER   ESCAPED.  85 

passengers  on  the  way.  He  then  found  that  they  were 
for  the  most  part  merchants  going  to  Nantes  on  business, 
officers  rejoining  their  garrisons  at  Brest  or  Rennes,  and 
Parisians  travelling  for  pleasure.  There  were  none  in 
the  list  of  whom  he  could  be  suspicious.  The  enumera- 
tion, therefore,  did  not  cause  him  to  alter  his  first  deci- 
sion, and  he  sent  the  inn-keeper  away,  telling  him  that 
the  boatman  could  count  on  him. 

Toward  noon  they  really  set  off.  The  boat,  or  rather 
the  barge,  towed  by  four  strong  horses  travelling  along 
the  bank,  went  at  as  good  a  rate  as  could  be  desired; 
so  that,  all  day  long,  Roger  congratulated  himself  on 
having  chosen  this  mode  of  travel  which  promised  him 
progress  by  night  not  less  rapid  than  that  accomplished 
by  daylight.  At  three  o'clock  they  stopped  at  Tours 
for  dinner;  but,  about  five  o'clock,  they  proceeded 
again,  and  kept  up  an  even  speed  until  night.  Ques- 
tioned as  to  the  distance  they  could  make  during  the 
night,  the  captain  answered  that  on  the  following  morn- 
ing they  would  be  at  Langeais  in  time  for  breakfast. 
On  the  strength  of  this  promise,  Roger  wrapped  him- 
self in  his  mantle,  lay  down  on  a  bench,  and  went  to 
sleep. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  precautions  he  had  taken,  Roger 
was  not  without  uneasiness.  His  slumber  was  very 
much  troubled  by  dreams.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
saw  appear  on  the  horizon  two  horsemen,  in  one  of 
whom  he  recognized  his  father,  in  the  other  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi,  who,  on  seeing  the  barge,  quickened  the 
pace  of  their  horses.  The  barge,  on  the  contrary,  in 
spite  of  Roger's  entreaties  to  the  master,  slackened  its 
speed  as  much  as  the  horsemen  quickened  theirs. 
Finally,  they  were  so  near  that  Roger,  still  dreaming, 
thought  he  had  no  other  resource  than  to  hide  himself 


86  SYLVANDIRE. 

ill  tlio  (loptlis  of  the  liold.  He  went  down,  therefore, 
■wedged  liiinself  bftweeu  two  casks  and  waited.  In  a 
short  time  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  motion  of  the  Large 
not  only  became  still  slower,  but  that  it  ceased  altogether. 
Then  he  heard  approaching  footsteps;  then  he  felt  a 
hand  seize  him  by  the  collar.  He  was  again  a  prisoner; 
he  gave  a  cry  and  awoke. 

His  first  feeling  was  one  of  joy ;  for,  on  o])ening  his 
eyes,  he  saw  that  he  was  still  perfectly  free.  His 
dream,  however,  was  not  all  an  illusion.  The  barge 
had  stopped  and  was  at  a  standstill  in  mid-stream. 
Roger  Avent  to  inquire  of  the  pilot  the  cause  of  their 
lying  to,  and  found  him  as  soundly  asleep  as  any  of  the 
passengers.  He  hesitated  a  moment  about  disturbing 
him;  but  the  situation  was  too  grave  for  his  hesitation 
to  last  long.  He  therefore  shook  the  worthy  navigator 
by  the  arm,  and  the  latter,  muttering  at  being  roused 
from  his  slumbers,  grumpily  answered,  as  though  the 
event  were  quite  natural,  and  one,  consequently,  that 
nobody  had  a  right  to  be  surprised  or  disconcerted  at, 
that  the  barge  was  stranded  on  a  sand-bank,  an  accident 
that  always  happened  three  or  four  times  in  the  trip. 
This  explanation  given,  the  pilot  dropped  his  head  again 
upon  the  helm,  and  he  was  fast  asleep. 

In  fact  the  Loire  was  at  that  period  what  it  still  is 
to-day,  one  of  the  most  freakish  rivers  in  France.  One 
is  never  certain  of  finding  her  at  home.  Like  that 
tyrant  of  antiquity  who  had  twelve  bed-chambers,  she 
never  sleeps  two  consecutive  nights  in  the  same  bed. 

So  then,  they  were  on  a  sand-bar,  as  much  as  to  say 
that  they  were  threatened  with  staying  there  until  a 
rainstorm  should  come  to  supply  the  river  with  the 
water  that  was  lacking,  or  until,  by  doubling  or  trebling 
the  number  of  horses  on  the  tow-line,  they  should  sue- 


HOW    THE    CHEVALIER    ESCAPED.  87 

ceed  in  clearing  the  barge  from  the  obstruction  which 
had  stopped  her  course. 

By  putting  one's  self  for  a  moment  into  Roger's  place 
it  would  not  be  difficult  to  imagine  the  effect  that 
such  news  would  produce  upon  him.  It  was  already 
twenty-four  hours  since  he  started,  and  he  had  made 
only  fifteen  or  eighteen  leagues,  that  is,  he  was  barely 
half  way.  Yet,  however  critical  the  situation,  there 
was  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  was  to  have  patience. 
If,  by  the  next  morning,  the  water  had  not  risen,  or  if 
the  horses  did  not  succeed  in  extricating  the  barge,  the 
chevalier  would  take  the  left  or  the  right  bank,  it  mat- 
tered little  which,  and  continue  his  way  on  foot. 

This  point  decided  in  his  mind,  Roger  tried  to  go  to 
sleep,  but  it  was  impossible.  He  remained  awake, 
therefore,  thinking  of  Constance,  and  considering  means 
of  reaching  her. 

This,  on  the  whole,  seemed  the  easiest  way.  Were 
Constance,  by  means  of  a  letter  from  Henri  de  Narcey 
to  his  sister,  forewarned  of  Roger's  presence,  she  would, 
undoubtedly,  from  that  moment  hold  herself  in  readi- 
ness for  any  event.  By  the  help  of  a  ladder,  Roger 
would  then  scale  the  convent  wall,  where  it  ran  along  a 
perfectly  deserted  street.  Then,  as  Constance's  window 
overlooked  the  garden,  she  could  descend  from  her  win- 
dow by  means  of  the  ladder.  Both  would  then  scale  the 
wall  and  take  flight  to  the  nearest  village,  where  any 
priest  would  marry  them. 

While  turning  over  all  these  ideas  again  and  again  in 
his  mind,  Roger  saw  the  day  begin  to  dawn.  But  day 
came  without  any  alteration  in  the  position  of  the 
barge.  The  entire  night  had  passed  without  the  Loire 
having  found  it  expedient  to  rise  an  inch.  The  barge- 
master,  on  the  other  hand,  recognizing  the  insufficiency 


88  SYLVANDIRE. 

of  his  four  animals,  had  gone  to  the  nearest  village  in 
search  of  reenforcoment,  and  had  there  secured  eight 
liorses,  which,  added  to  the  first  four,  made  a  total  of 
twelve.  But,  in  spite  of  the  combined  efforts  of  the 
poor  beasts  and  the  more  than  conscientious  lashes  of 
the  whip  which  their  driver  rained  upon  them,  the 
barge  moved  no  more  than  if  it  had  struck  root  in  the 
bottom  of  the  Loire.  Two  or  three  hours  were  thus 
spent  in  fruitless  efforts. 

Roger  bit  his  finger-nails  in  impatience,  nor  could  he 
understand  the  apathy  of  the  passengers  by  whom  he 
was  surrounded,  who  stolidly  and  tranquilly  discussed 
the  event  which  so  exasperated  him,  all  suggesting 
plans  for  their  relief  which  were  each  more  impracti- 
cable than  the  other,  and  seeming,  moreover,  satisfied  to 
remain  there  until  a  miracle  of  God  should  come  to  ex- 
tricate them.  He  was  among  people  who  were  visildy 
accustomed  to  descending  the  Loire,  and,  consequently 
familiar  with  such  occurrences. 

Roger  sought  out  the  master  of  the  barge,  whom  he 
warned  that  if,  in  half  an  hour,  the  barge  was  not  afloat, 
he  would  leap  into  the  water  and  swim  ashore.  The 
captain  was  very  tranquilly  breakfasting  upon  cutlets 
and  Orleans  wine.  He  listened  to  Roger's  speech  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  inquired  if  he  had  paid  his  pas- 
sage. Roger  answered  by  exhibiting  his  receipt.  There- 
upon the  captain  assured  him  that  he  was  at  perfect 
liberty  to  act  as  he  saw  fit,  and  he  turned  away  to  finish 
his  cutlets  and  empty  his  bottle. 

Roger  was  seized  with  a  mad  desire  to  strangle  the 
barge-master.  However,  as  he  knew  that  a  murder 
would  only  complicate  his  case,  he  restrained  himself, 
and  went  on  deck. 

He  hoped  to  find  the  passengers  impatient,  and  thought 


HOW    THE    CHEVALIER   ESCAPED.  89 

to  take  advantage  of  tlieir  restlessness,  and  stir  up  a 
little  mutiny.  Consequently  he  approached  the  ditfer- 
ent  groups;  but,  to  his  great  astonishment,  he  found 
that  instead  of  busying  themselves  about  the  accident, 
all  were  engaged  in  conversation  about  their  own  affairs. 
The  politicians  were  commenting  on  the  conference  at 
Geertruidenberg,  the  officers  were  talking  of  the  battle 
of  Malplaquet,  and  the  merchants  discussed  the  tithes- 
tax.  Roger  saw  that  nothing  was  to  be  expected  from 
them,  and  he  began  to  meditate  the  execution  of  his 
threat  to  the  captain  of  swimming  ashore,  when  he  saw 
five  or  six  boats  push  ofl'  the  bank  and  row  toward  the 
barge.  They  contained  natives  who  came  to  offer  fresh 
provisions,  fruits,  and  cakes  to  the  stranded  passengers, 
as  the  savages  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  surround  the 
vessels  that  wander  into  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

Roger  bought  one  boat's  whole  cargo  on  condition  that 
the  boat  should  at  once  convey  him  to  land. 

The  little  abbe's  departure  interruj^ted  the  conversa- 
tions for  a  short  time.  A  few  heads  turned  to  see  him 
descend,  and  gazed  after  him  a  moment  as  he  moved  otf; 
but  very  soon  each  had  returned  to  his  theme,  and  no 
one  seemed  any  longer  to  be  concerned  about  the 
deserter. 

Roger  landed  opposite  Luynes.  He  had  a  great  mind 
to  gain  the  town,  almost  a  quarter  of  a  league  distant 
from  the  river-bank,  and  see  if  he  could  there  find  a 
horse,  but  he  thought  that  it  would  cause  delay.  Be- 
sides, in  taking  a  horse  he  must  needs  take  a  man,  and 
that  would  be  admitting  another  into  his  secret.  He 
therefore  decided  to  continue  his  journey  on  foot,  and 
immediately  headed  for  Langeais,  where  he  arrived  at 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

There,  however  great  Roger's  desire  to  proceed,  he 


90  SYLVANDIRE. 

was  obliged  to  stop  and  spend  tlie  night.  He  must  at 
least  make  an  hour's  lialt  fur  supper  and  a  little  rest. 
But  how  was  he  to  set  olf  again  on  foot  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening?  Such  a  course  was  liable  to  arouse 
suspicions;  and  besides,  our  swain  had  reached  the  place 
where  he  must  cross  the  Loire  and  proceed  inland.  Now, 
as  only  the  cross-roads  led  from  Langeais  to  Chinon,  the 
chances  were  ten  to  one  that  he  would  lose  his  way  in 
the  darkness.  Willy  nilly,  therefore,  Roger  must  spend 
the  night  at  the  inn,  and  that  his  time  might  not  be  lost, 
by  tlie  inn-keeper's  aid  he  thorouglily  familiarized  him- 
self with  the  route  to  be  pursued  the  next  morning. 

At  daybreak,  Roger  resumed  his  journey.  He  hoped, 
by  brisk  walking,  to  be  at  Chinon  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon.  In  fact,  at  nine  o'clock  he  breakfasted 
at  Armentieres.  By  noon,  indeed,  he  stopped  at  Saint 
Benoit,  and  at  a  few  minutes  before  nine  o'clock  he  saw, 
at  last,  the  towers  and  steeples  of  the  much  desired 
town.  Far  from  stimulating  his  courage,  the  sight 
seemed  to  terrify  him.  He  paused  a  moment,  his  legs 
trembling  and  his  hand  pressed  against  his  bosom  as  if 
to  still  the  beatings  of  his  heart.  Finally  he  plucked 
up  courage,  and,  ashamed  without  doubt  of  his  weak- 
ness, he  started  off  at  a  quickened  pace.  Fifteen  min- 
utes later  he  had  reached  Chinon. 

Then,  as  with  all  stout  hearts,  the  approach  of  danger 
aroused  the  chevalier's  spirit.  He  proceeded  directly 
to  the  convent,  knocked  unhesitatingly  at  the  door, 
and  sustaining  with  the  utmost  calm  the  scrutinizing 
gaze  of  the  attendant,  he  said, — 

"  Sister,  a  Mademoiselle  Herminie  de  Narcey  is,  I 
think,   in  your  convent." 

"  Yes,  brother,"  answered  the  attendant;  "  what  would 
you  with  her  ?  " 


HOW   THE    CHEVALIEE    ESCAPED.  91 

"  I  am  charged  by  Monsieur  Henri  to  give  her  this 
letter.  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  present  it  to  her, 
after,  of  course,  having  submitted  it,  according  to  rule, 
to  your  worthy  superior  1  " 

"  I  will  do  so  at  once,"  replied  the  attendant. 
"Alas!  poor  dear  girl,  this  letter  will  afford  her  great 
pleasure,  especially  now  when  she  is  so  sad." 

"  Sad  ?  and  why  ?  "  asked  Roger  Avith  misgivings. 

"At  the  loss  of  her  dearest  friend." 

"  Her  dearest  friend  ? "  repeated  Roger  with  increas 
ing   alarm;   "she  has  lost  her   dearest   friend,  do  you 
sayT' 

"Ah,  1)1071  Dieii,  yes,"  answered  the  attendant,  lifting 
her  eyes  heavenward.  "  The  Lord  lent  her  to  us,  and 
the  Lord  has  taken  her  away;  it  is  well,  for  she  was  an 
angel." 

"But  —  but  —  her  best  friend,"  cried  Roger,  wiping 
away  the  perspiration  that  rolled  from  his  brow ;  "  her 
best  friend,  if  I  mistake  not,  was  —  " 

"  Was  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie,"  replied  the  at- 
tendant; "  you  knew  her,  perhaps,  dear  brother?  " 

"Constance!  Constance!"  cried  the  chevalier.  "In 
heaven's  name,  go  on,  go  on!  What  has  happened  to 
her?" 

"She  died  three  days  ago,"  answered  the  attendant, 
"  and  was  buried  yesterday. " 

Roger  gave  an  appalling  cry ,  swei'ved  like  a  man  struck 
by  lightning,  and  would  have  fallen  his  whole  length 
on  the  pavement  had  he  not  been  caught  in  tlie  arms  of 
the  Baron  d'Anguilhcm,  who  at  that  moment  in  turn 
approached  to  enter  the  convent. 


92  SYLVANDIRE. 


VI. 


IN  WHICH  WE  ARE  TOLD  THAT  THE  CHEVALIER 
d'aNGUILHEM  WAS  SO  OVEKWHELMED  WITH  GKIEF 
AT  THE  DEATH  OF  MADEMOISELLE  DE  BEUZERIE 
THAT    HE    RESOLVED    TO    BECOME    A    JESUIT, 

When"  the  chevalier  came  to  liimself,  he  was  lying  on 
a  bed  in  the  guest-chamber  of  an  inn,  and  the  I>aron 
d'Anguilhem  was  sitting  by  his  pillow. 

On  opening  his  eyes,  he  stared  about  him  like  a  man 
awaking  from  sleep  and  striving  to  collect  his  thoughts. 
Then  memory  returned.  He  recalled  what  had  jjassed  at 
the  convent ;  that,  from  the  lips  of  the  attendant,  he  had 
learned  of  the  death  of  Constance,  and  how,  crushed  by 
the  blow,  he  had  fallen  into  the  arms  of  a  man  whom  he 
had  recognized  as  his  father. 

For  an  instant  the  chevalier  strove  to  doubt  his  mis- 
fortune; but  his  own  condition,  his  tutor's  clothes  lying 
on  a  chair,  his  father,  Avho  sat  weeping  beside  him,  all 
were  proofs  of  his  misfortune  too  convincing  for  him  to 
be  able  to  preserve  hope.  Turning  to  the  baron,  then, 
with  arms  outstretched,  he  cried,  — 

"  Oh !  father,  I  am  so  unhappy !  " 

The  baron  adored  his  son.  He  lavished  on  him  all  the 
forms  of  consolation  that  are  current  on  such  occasions. 
He  reminded  him  that  he  was  a  man,  that  man  was  born 
to  suffer,  and  to  this  end  it  was  that  God  had  given  him 
strength.  It  was  all  good  orthodox  doctrine;  but  to  it 
all,  however  sacred  it  might  be,  Roger  responded,  shak- 
ing his  head,  — 


THE  CHEVALIER  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A  JESUIT.   93 

"  If  my  mother  were  liere  !   if  my  mother  were  here!  " 

"  "Well,  and  what  would  she  do  that  I  am  not  doing  1  " 
demanded  the  baron. 

"  Oh!  she  would  weep  with  me  !  "  cried  Roger. 

And  he  fell  back  on  his  pillow,  sobbing  aloud. 

The  baron  thought  that  the  best  thing  to  do  under  the 
circumstances  was  to  let  his  son  weep  his  fill.  In  fact, 
tears  afforded  him  some  relief,  and  he  began  to  be  able  to 
speak  of  Constance.  It  was,  as  one  can  easily  imagine, 
to  multiply  questions  about  her  illness  and  death.  The 
baron  merely  replied  that  he  knew  on  the  subject  only 
what  every  one  else  knew :  the  young  girl  had  been 
taken  with  smallpox,  and,  in  spite  of  medical  science, 
she  had  died  after  six  days  of  suffering. 

The  chevalier  then  declared  that  he  wished  to  visit  the 
convent  and  see  the  room  in  which  Constance  had  lived, 
and  the  grave  where  she  lay;  that  he  wished  to  weep  in 
the  one  and  pray  beside  the  other. 

The  baron  replied  that  the  next  morning  a  requie7n 
was  to  be  sung  for  the  repose  of  the  young  girl's  soul,  and 
if  he  would  promise  to  conduct  himself  like  a  man,  and  to 
set  out  in  the  afternoon  for  Anguilhem,  he  should  be 
present  at  the  7'equiem,  and,  after  leaving  the  chapel,  he 
should  be  conducted  by  the  abbess  to  Constance's  cell 
and  then  to  her  tomb. 

The  chevalier  gave  his  word  that  he  would  command 
himself.  As  to  leaving  Chinon,  he  would  do  that  with 
all  his  heart,  for  he  realized  how  much,  in  his  present 
condition,    he  needed  his  mother's  love. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  passed  peacefully  enough, 
although  sadly.  Roger  remained  in  bed,  affecting,  from 
time  to  time,  to  be  asleep.  His  father,  believing  that  he 
slept,  soon  went  out  on  tiptoe,  and,  finding  himself  alone, 
Roger  was  then  able  to  weep  as  freely  as  he  wished. 


94  SYLVANDIRE. 

Night  fell,  and,  however  unhappy  was  the  chevalier, 
Avith  the  night  came  a  little  sleep.  He  dreamed  of  Con- 
stance, and,  strangely  enough,  instead  of  beholding  the 
young  girl  pale  and  dying  on  her  bed,  or  white  and  cold 
in  lier  cotfin,  as  often  as  she  appeared  to  him,  she  seemed 
to  be  full  of  life,  with  love  in  her  eyes  and  a  smile  upon 
her  lips,  just  as  she  had  been  at  Anguilhem,  at  Beuzerie, 
or  at  the  convent.  Tlieu  he  Avould  awake,  his  heart 
beating  rapidly ;  for  a  few  moments,  lie  would  doubt  his 
own  unhappiness,  until  the  room  at  the  inn,  the  clerical 
garb,  the  step  of  his  father,  who  occupied  the  adjoining 
room,  and  who,  at  every  sound  made  by  the  chevalier, 
came  to  the  door,  all  recalled  him  to  the  terrible  certainty 
that  the  death  of  Constance  was  itself  not  a  dream. 

At  daybreak,  Koger  heard  the  ringing  of  the  convent 
bell;  it  Avas  proclaiming  the  day's  sad  rite.  Each  slow 
and  muffled  throb  of  the  tolling  bronze  found  response  in 
the  depths  of  the  clievalier's  heart. 

Another  thing  distressed  him  moreover:  he  had  no 
clothes  to  Avear  but  those  in  Avhich  he  had  fled  from. 
Amboise,  and  he  could  not  attend  the  service  dressed 
like  an  abbe ;  his  disguise,  so  grotesque  in  itself,  seemed 
to  square  badly  with  his  grief.  To  run  about  the 
country,  to  carry  off  Constance  in  that  attire  would  have 
Avorked  to  a  charm,  but  to  listen  to  the  service  for  the 
dead  and  to  weep  over  her  tomb,  Avearing  such  a  cos- 
tume, Avould  be  profanation. 

The  heart  has  instinctive  delicacies  Avhich  never  lead  it 
astray. 

Meanwhile,  the  baron  Avas  entering  the  chevalier's 
room,  folloAved  by  a  servant  from  the  chateau  carrying  a 
complete  suit  of  clothes.  Thanking  his  father,  Roger 
asked  how  he  had  come  by  them.  The  baron  re- 
plied  that    the    abbe,    on   arriving   at   Anguilhem,    had 


THE  CHEVALIEK  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A  JESUIT.   95 

informed  the  baroness  in  what  equipment  her  son  had 
escaped,  and  that  the  baroness,  riglitly  suspecting  that  he 
had  run  away  to  see  Constance  again,  and,  comprehend- 
ing her  son's  embarrassment  on  reaching  Chinon,  had 
immediately  sent  on  this  suit.  A  single  fact  annoyed 
Roger:  it  was  that  his  mother  had  not  brought  it 
herself. 

However,  the  chevalier  dressed,  for  at  eight  o'clock 
mass  was  to  be  said.  To  the  baron's  great  astonishment, 
Roger  said  not  a  word  to  him  about  Constance.  In  all 
his  father's  answers,  the  poor  lad  had  been  conscious  of  a 
degree  of  coldness  and  constraint  which  accorded  but  ill 
with  the  frankness  of  his  own  grief.  The  baron,  for  his 
part,  dreading,  no  doubt,  to  revive  his  son's  regrets,  was 
continually  turning  the  conversation  away  from  the  only 
theme  that  interested  the  chevalier.  He  did  not  under- 
stand that,  in  crises  of  the  nature  of  the  one  that  his  son 
was  experiencing,  the  first  relief  is  drawn  from  tears, 
and  that  the  way  to  excite  tears  is  to  speak  to  the  sorrow- 
ing one  of  the  loss  for  which  they  flow. 

The  baron  therefore  thought  that  Roger's  affliction  was 
diminished  because  Roger  wept  no  more.  Alas !  the 
tears  were  flowing  inwardly,  and  falling  one  by  one  upon 
his  heart. 

Roger  set  off  with  his  father,  and  they  proceeded  to  the 
convent,  walking  side  by  side.  But,  on  approaching  the 
door  where  twice  he  had  presented  himself  so  light  of 
heart,  Roger  felt  the  ground  swaying  beneath  his  feet; 
houses,  walls,  and  trees  were  whirling  round  him ;  he  was 
obliged  to  lean  on  his  father's  arm.  As  for  the  baron,  he 
was  visibly  moved,  on  perceiving  which  Roger  strove  to 
master  his  own  emotion. 

On  arriving  at  the  door,  Roger  again  met  the  attend- 
ant who  had  given  him  the  terrible  news.     Accustomed 


96  SYLVANDIEE. 

as  she  was  to  the  sight  of  great  human  griefs,  the 
poor  ■woman  herself  seemed  alfected  by  the  chevalier's 
pallor  and  sorrow.  And  when  the  latter,  as  he  passed 
her,  secretly  slipped  a  louis  into  her  hand,  she  could  not 
restrain  her  tears. 

Roger  entered  the  chapel  which,  a  year  before,  he  had 
entered  in  such  happy-hearted  confidence  of  recognizing 
Constance's  voice  from  among  all  the  others.  A  year 
had  passed,  and  that  voice,  so  pure,  so  sweet,  so  thrilling, 
was  hushed;  and  he  was  about  to  listen  to  all  those 
other  voices,  among  which  he  would  seek  in  vain  for  one 
which  now  was  singing  in  heaven  the  praises  of  the  Lord. 

The  chevalier  went  to  kneel  on  the  very  spot  where  he 
liad  knelt  a  year  before,  and  there,  for  the  first  time,  he 
felt  that  sublime  necessity  for  prayer  which  comes  in 
times  of  great  grief.  There  for  the  first  time  his  soul 
entered  into  communion  with  that  other  world  of  which 
one  never  catches  a  glimpse  save  through  a  veil  of  joy  or 
of  despair,  of  which  one  can  conceive  only  in  moments 
of  supreme  bliss  or  of  supreme  grief. 

The  entire  service  passed,  and  although  Roger's  tears 
never  ceased  to  flow  down  his  cheeks,  not  a  sob  escaped 
his  breast.     Prayer  renders  weeping  easy  and  soothing. 

Mass  ended,  the  baron  conducted  his  son  to  the  supe- 
rior. Perhaps  the  worthy  nun  nursed  some  rancor 
toward  her  nephew  for  the  trick  that  he  had  played  her 
before,  and  that  he  had  quite  recently  intended  to  repeat ; 
perhaps  she  had  promised  herself  to  administer  some 
reprimand,  kind  but  stern,  for  her  aspect,  at  first,  was 
dignified  and  cold  ;  but  she  heard  a  heart-rending  cry,  — 

"  0  aunt,  aunt,  why  did  you  let  her  die  1  " 

She  was  i;nable  to  withstand  a  grief  so  real  and  one 
which  manifested  itself  by  such  marked  alteration  of 
face  and  voice.     The  good  superior  melted  into  tears. 


THE  CHEVALIEU  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A  JESUIT.      97 

Roger  took  advantage  of  lier  mood  to  remind  his  father 
of  the  promise  he  had  made  to  ask  his  aunt's  permission 
for  liim  to  visit  Constance's  cell.  The  superior  raised 
some  little  objection,  but  yielded  after  having  called  a 
nun  and,  in  a  low  voice,  given  her  a  few  orders  which 
were  doubtless  designed  to  remove  from  Roger's  sight 
any  object  that  might  further  excite  his  grief. 

A  few  moments  later,  all  three  descended;  the  corri- 
dors were  deserted.  It  seemed  as  if  death  had  at  a  blow 
depopulated  every  cell;  the  girls  were  in  the  garden. 

The  abbess  opened  the  door  of  Constance's  room,  and 
was  preparing,  like  the  baron,  to  follow  Roger;  but 
Roger  begged  them  both  to  allow  him  to  remain  alone  a 
moment  within  the  sanctuary  of  his  love.  Father  and 
aunt  exchanged  glances;  then,  doubtless,  seeing  no  im- 
propriety in  his  request,  they  gave  a  sign  to  Roger  that 
he  might  enter. 

Roger  went  in,  closed  the  door  behind  him  that  he 
might  be  alone,  and  advanced  reverently  and  with 
clasped  hands  toward  the  bed  on  which  Constance  had 
breathed  her  last  sigh.  Nothing  indicated  that  death 
had  passed  that  way.  The  chevalier  bent  over  the  virgin 
pillow  to  imprint  thereon  a  kiss.  It  still  exhaled  an 
odor  of  tlie  sweet  and  delicate  fragrance  that  emanates 
from  youth  and  health.  One  would  have  said  that  she 
who  had  left  it  three  days  ago  for  the  tomb,  had  gone 
out  but  that  very  morning  to  run  with  tossing  hair  about 
some  meadow  all  strewn  with  flowers  and  variegated 
with  butterflies  and  bees. 

This  contrast  between  the  place  and  the  scene  there 
enacted,  of  which  nothing  seemed  to  have  preserved  a 
trace,  broke  Roger's  heart.  Thus  came  home  to  him 
the  great  truth  that  we  are  destined  to  pass  away  from 
the  earth  leaving  no  trace   other  than  the   memory  re- 

7. 


98  SYLVANDIRE.  . 

taiued  by  tlioso  who  have  loved  us ;  and  yet,  how  sliort 
a  time  do  the  most  deeply  wounded  hearts  preserve  that 
memory ! 

Roger  vowed  that  in  his  the  memory  of  Constance 
should  live  forever. 

Then  he  arose,  examined  one  after  another  all  the 
objects  comprising  the  furnishing  of  that  little  room, 
whose  picture  he  Avished  his  mind  to  retain.  At  the 
left  of  the  entrance,  against  the  wall,  were  a  crucifix  and 
a  prie-dieu;  on  the  prie-dieu  lay  Constance's  tiny  missal. 
Roger  went  and  knelt  before  the  prie-dieu,  kissed  the 
little  volume,  opened  it  at  the  place  where  the  book- 
mark showed  it  to  have  been  opened  last,  and  read  the 
prayer  that  Constance  had  undoubtedly  read.  It  was  the 
angelic  salutation,  the  "  Ave  Maria, "  that  sweet  and 
poetic  promise  of  an  angel  to  a  virgin,  of  heaven  to  earth, 
of  God  to  man. 

The  fireplace  was  opposite.  On  the  mantel  were  two 
porcelain  vases  overflowing  with  flowers  which,  thanks 
to  the  water  that  fed  their  stems,  had  survived  her  wlio 
had  plucked  them.  Between  the  two  vases  shone  a  little 
mirror,  a  worldly  infringement  of  the  convent  rules,  but 
one  that  the  superior  permitted  such  of  her  inmates  as 
were  destined  to  re-enter  the  world.  Roger  culled  a 
pansy  from  each  of  the  half-wilted  bouquets,  and  pressed 
his  lips  to  the  mirror  which,  unfaithful  and  forgetful  like 
the  rest,  was  ready  to  reflect  any  new  face  that  might 
pass  before  it,  without  retaining  a  shadow  of  the  angelic 
one  that  it  had  so  often  reflected. 

From  the  mantel,  Roger  advanced  to  the  window. 
As  we  have  said,  the  window  overlooked  the  garden. 
It  was  the  one  that  he  had  already  seen;  the  young 
girls  gathered  there  were  the  same,  but  with  what  a 
diff'erence !    Buoyant  and  gay  before,  they  were  now  silent 


THE  CHEVALIER  EESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A  JESUIT.   99 

and  sad.  They  did  not  play;  they  walked  in  groups 
and  in  retired  spots.  Alone,  quite  alone,  walked  Her- 
minie  de  ISTarcey,  the  faithful  friend  of  poor  Constance. 

This  last  sight  was  the  most  terrible  of  all  for  Roger. 
There,  on  those  young  hearts,  those  virgin  souls,  blank 
pages  of  the  book  of  life,  as  yet  scarcely  opened,  was  the 
real  impress  of  the  death  whose  traces  Roger  had  vainly 
been  seeking  within;  there  was  the  void  left  in  the  air 
by  the  dove  in  its  heavenward  flight. 

Just  then  the  door  opened.  More  than  a  half-hour 
had  elapsed  since  Roger  had  entered  Constance's  room, 
and,  as  he  did  not  emerge,  his  father  and  his  aunt  were 
fearful  of  some  new  misfortune  brought  on  by  too  violent 
emotion. 

With  breaking  heart  Roger  left  the  little  room,  feeling 
that  he  was  taking  forth  memories  for  a  whole  lifetime, 
and  yet  he  was  outwardly  so  calm  that,  upon  asking  his 
aunt,  in  accordance  with  the  baron's  late  agreement,  to 
allow  him  to  visit  the  tomb  of  Constance,  not  only  did 
neither  the  baron  nor  the  superior  make  any  objection, 
but  both  offered  to  accompany  him  thither. 

The  convent  burial-ground  was  within  the  cloister. 
Roger  had  therefore  barely  a  hundred  steps  to  take  on 
leaving  the  room  in  which  Constance  had  reposed  for  a 
time  to  reach  the  abode  where  she  would  sleep  forever. 
At  the  entrance  of  the  cloister,  as  at  the  door  of  her 
room,  Roger  asked  to  be  alone;  grief  is  devout,  tears 
are  ashamed.  Alone,  then,  Roger  entered  the  little 
graveyard. 

Here,  as  in  all  convents,  was  a  quadrangle  surrounded 
by  columned  arcades,  enclosing  a  plot  of  turf-covered 
ground  whose  surface  was  embossed  all  over  with  graves 
more  or  less  salient,  according  as  the  interval  elapsed  had 
allowed  them  to  become  more  or  less  sunken.     On  such 


100  SYLVANDIRE. 

a  spot  especially  is  felt  the  marcli  of  time,  the  great 
leveller  under  whose  tread  gradually  crumble  away  the 
palaces  of  the  living  and  tlie  tombs  of  tlie  dead.  Slowly 
Roger  advanced  toward  a  mound  that  was  freshly  rounded 
and  covered  by  a  slab  on  which  there  had  not  yet  been 
time  to  inscribe  a  name.  There  was  no  mistaking  it, 
and  it  was  plain  that  the  grave  dated  from  the  day 
named  as  that  of  Constance's  burial.  Roger  knelt  be- 
side the  stone  and  prayed. 

This  was  his  final  ordeal,  and  it  lasted  i;ntil  the  baron 
and  the  superior  came  for  him.  He  had  said  good-by 
to  the  chapel  where  Constance  had  prayed,  to  the  room 
in  which  she  had  lived,  to  the  tomb  where  she  was  laid 
to  rest  forever.  There  was  nothing  to  keep  him  longer  at 
Chinon ;  so  Roger  let  them  lead  him  away  like  a  child, 
and  after  mechanically  taking  leave  of  his  aunt,  he  got 
into  the  cariole  in  which  his  father  had  travelled,  not 
unresistingly,  merely,  but  even  without  uttering  a  word. 
The  journey  was  more  quickly  made  than  the  first.  In 
coming,  the  baron  had  changed  horses  three  times  on 
the  way,  at  Loches,  at  Sainte  Maure,  and  at  I'lle  Bou- 
chard, so  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  delay ;  at  each  of 
these  places  a  fresh  horse  Avas  taken,  and  by  noon  of  the 
next  day  they  were  at  Anguilhem. 

During  the  entire  journey,  Roger  had  remained  ab- 
sorbed in  the  profoundest  apathy,  without  a  tear,  with- 
out a  sigh,  and  almost  without  feeling.  On  meeting  his 
mother  again,  however,  the  poor  child  found  his  tears  j 
but  the  shock  had  been  too  violent;  on  that  same  even- 
ing fever  manifested  itself,  and  Roger  fell  seriously  ill. 

Then,  in  all  its  admirable  devotion  was  displayed  that 
mother's  love,  so  many  proofs  of  which  the  baroness 
had  already  given  her  son.  As  long  as  Roger  was  ill, 
she  never  left  his  bedside  for  a  moment,   sitting  with 


THE  CHEVALIER  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A  JESUIT.  101 

him  by  day,  watcliing  beside  him  at  night,  speaking  of 
Constance  without  ceasing,  praying  and  weeping  with 
him,  fusing  her  soul  with  his,  divining  all  his  feelings, 
anticipating  every  desire,  having  no  life  but  his  life,  no 
will  but  his  will.  Sometimes,  when  she  thought  him 
asleep,  Roger  would  surprise  her  gazing  on  him  witli  an 
expression  of  infinite  tenderness  in  which  he  seemed  to 
detect  a  blending  of  grief  and  remorse.  Twenty  times 
was  he  on  the  point  of  questioning  her  as  to  the  peculiar 
expression  that  he  detected  in  her  eyes;  but  Roger  had 
not  strength  enough  to  be  curious.  What  mattered  all 
the  workl  to  him  ?     Constance  was  not  there. 

The  chevalier's  illness  was  long;  then  it  insensibly 
drifted  into  a  sombre  melancholy  more  dangerous  than 
the  malady  whose  place  it  took,  for  Roger  abandoned 
himself  to  this  melancholy,  and,  after  having  submitted 
to  every  form  of  treatment  that  had  been  prescribed  for 
the  cure  of  his  physical  disease,  he  would  do  nothing  to 
cure  that  of  his  mind.  In  vain  his  father  proposed  rid- 
ing, hunting,  fencing.  All  the  sports  of  which  he  had 
formerly  been  passionately  fond  now  wearied  him  to  the 
point  of  inspiring  disgust.  His  studies  were  his  sole 
diversion;  and,  one  fine  day,  to  the  great  amazement  of 
his  father  and  mother,  Roger  asked  to  go  back  to  the 
college  of  the  Jesuits  of  Amboise. 

Whatever  sorrow  they  might  have  felt  at  thought  of 
parting  with  their  son  in  his  present  state  of  mind,  the 
baron  and  the  baroness  nevertheless-  welcomed  his  request 
with  joy.  It  proved  that  Roger  was  again  taking  up  an 
interest  in  life.  It  had  been  three  months  since  he  had 
expressed  any  desire  whatever,  hence  his  request  was 
met  witli  no  denial. 

Roger  returned  then  to  Amboise,  still  under  the  care 
of  his  tutor.    This  time,  his  father  and  his  mother  accom- 


102  SYLVANDIRE. 

panied  him,  the  baroness  having  desired  to  make  the 
journey  that  she  might  in  person  commend  her  son  to 
the  reverend  Jesuit  fathers. 

A  great  disappointment  awaited  Roger.  lie  had  re- 
entered college  during  the  vacation  and  had  fully  expected, 
at  the  re-opening,  to  see  his  friend  Henri  de  Narcey  return ; 
but  he  waited  for  him  in  vain.  Henri  had  completed  his 
course  in  rhetoric,  and  his  parents,  liaving  destined  him 
for  the  bar,  had  not  thought  it  best  that  he  should  take 
philosophy.  Roger  therefore  found  himself  completely 
isolated  with  his  sorrow. 

Then  a  religious  fervor  developed  within  him,  no  trace 
of  which  had  manifested  itself  before  the  event  that  had 
brought  it  forth  from  the  depths  of  his  heart.  Roger 
passed  whole  hours  within  the  chapel,  praying  until  he 
Avould  fall  into  a  kind  of  ecstasy  that  usually  terminated 
in  a  flood  of  tears.  The  reverend  fathers  very  soon  per- 
ceived this  tendency,  not  toward  devotional  exercises,  — 
Roger  was  not  a  practical  devotee,  he  forgot  even  the 
hours  of  the  services,  to  which  he  had  almost  always  to 
be  summoned, —  but  toward  pious  reverie.  They  compre- 
hended what  an  excellent  recruit  for  the  order  would  be 
an  exalted  soul  like  that  of  their  young  guest,  attended 
by  a  fertile  mind,  and  one  that,  in  all  likelihood,  would 
recover  later  all  the  vigor  that  it  had  momentarily  lost; 
thus,  every  kindness,  every  enticement,  every  flattery  be- 
set Roger.  There  is  an  infatuation  in  religion  for  young 
and  tender  hearts.  Roger,  to  whom  Constance  had 
become  an  angel,  directed  all  his  longing  toward  heaven. 
The  rector  was  an  ingratiating,  adroit,  eloquent  man, 
fired  with  that  zeal  of  proselytism  which  is  nowhere  so 
pronounced  as  in  the  order  of  which  Ignatius  Loyola  was 
the  founder.  He  sent  for  Roger,  sounded  his  feelings, 
strengthened  his  inclination,  and  managed  so  successfully 


THE  CHEVALIER  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A  JESUIT.    103 

that  one  fine  morning  at  the  end  of  six  months  Roger 
announced  to  his  tutor  that  he  had  firmly  resolved  to  join 
the  order  of  the  Jesuits. 

As  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi  was  a  member  of  the  order, 
and  as  the  plan  of  sending  Roger  to  the  college  at 
Amboise  had  been  of  his  own  suggesting,  fear  seized  him 
lest  the  chevalier's  parents  should  think  that  he  had  been 
the  one  to  inspire  his  pupil  with  this  singular  notion  of 
taking  the  vows.  Hence  he  immediately  wrote  to  the 
baron  of  what  was  on  foot,  begging  him  to  come  without 
loss  of  time,  if  he  wished  to  arrive  before  the  reverend 
fathers  had  quite  taken  possession  of  his  son's  mind. 

The  baron  realized  at  a  glance  the  danger  threatening 
Roger;  he  put  Christopher  to  the  cart,  and  the  next 
morning  fomid  him  at  Amboise. 


104  SYLVANDIRE. 


VII. 

HOW  MADEMOISELLE  DE  BEUZERIE  APPEAKED  BEFORE 
THE  CHEVALIER  d'aXGUILHEM  TO  DISSUADE  HIM 
FROM    TAKING    THE    VOWS. 

The  baron  found  Roger  quite  cool  and  very  determined. 
If  the  project  that  he  liad  conceived  had  been  the  result 
of  excitement,  the  baron  would  have  entertained  some 
hope  that,  when  the  excitement  had  passed  away,  the 
desire  engendered  of  it  would  have  vanished  with  it ;  but 
it  was  not  so,  and  the  matter  was  becoming  very  serious, 
the  more  serious  because  of  its  having  occurred  at  this 
period  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  or  rather  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  when  all  things  revolved  about  religion, 
and  when  such  powerful  protection  was  given  to  the  heads 
of  churches  or  the  superiors  of  convents  that,  in  many 
instances,  young  men  and  women  of  the  first  families  of 
France  had  become  monks  and  nuns  in  spite  of  the  oppo- 
sition of  their  relatives.  The  baron,  therefore,  could 
think  of  no  better  plan  to  adopt  with  the  chevalier  than 
persuasion. 

And  so  he  tried  that;  but  to  all  the  baron's  pleas, 
Hoger  responded  that  he  was  obeying  an  inner  voice,  that 
it  was  the  voice  of  conscience,  and  that,  from  the  moment 
of  losing  the  only  being  tliat  held  him  to  earth,  he  had 
felt  himself  drawn  by  an  irresistible  vocation. 

The  baron  then  addressed  the  rector  of  the  college  and 
solicited  his  help  to  combat  the  chevalier's  resolve;  but 
the  rector  replied  that  he  would  regard  it  as  an  offence  in 


CONSTANCE  APPEARS  TO  THE  CHEVALIEK.   105 

the  sight  of  God  to  lead  away  from  heaven  a  soul  that 
was  seeking  salvation.  Therefore  all  that  could  be 
extracted  from  him  was  that  he  Avould  refrain  from  incit- 
ing Roger  forward  on  the  course  upon  which  he  had  of 
his  own  accord  entered ;  that  he  had,  moreover,  imposed 
this  restraint  on  himself  up  to  this  time,  and  that  he 
should  continue  to  do  so.  The  baron  really  could  ask  no 
more. 

Three  or  four  days  were  spent  in  fruitless  effort.  Finally, 
toward  evening  on  the  fifth  day,  there  came  a  letter  from 
the  baroness  who,  informed  by  her  husband  as  to  the 
state  of  affairs,  wrote  to  entreat  the  chevalier  that 
he  would  come  and  spend  a  fortnight  at  Anguilhem 
before  decisively  making  up  his  mind,  promising  the 
neophyte  that  if,  at  the  end  of  this  time  his  determination 
still  held  out,  she  would  leave  him  free  to  follow  his 
wishes.  This  request  was  too  motherly  and  too  reasona- 
ble for  Koger  not  to  accede  to  it  at  once. 

The  next  day,  after  having  received  the  rector's  bles- 
sing, the  future  Jesuit  set  out  for  Anguilhem  in  company 
with  the  baron  and  the  abbe,  the  last  two  cursing  from 
the  bottom  of  their  hearts  the  fatal  day  when  Mademoi- 
selle de  Beuzerie  first  set  foot  at  Anguilhem.  Indeed, 
since  that  unlucky  day,  it  was  plain  that  everything  had 
been  at  sixes  and  sevens  in  the  home  until  then  so  tran- 
quil, and  whose  inmates,  formerl}^  the  most  staid  in  the 
province,  were  now  spending  their  time  chasing  each 
other  up  and  down  the  highways  of  tlie  land. 

The  baroness  renewed  the  arguments  already  tried  by 
the  baron ;  but,  despite  all  her  motherly  persuasion,  she 
could  not  vanquish  the  chevalier's  obstinacy.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  was  in  vain  that  his  father  talked  to  him 
of  hunting,  riding,  and  fencing;  to  all  these  worldly 
incitements  Eoger  would   reply  that   they  were   profane 


106  SYLVANDIRE. 

exercises,  not  at  all  hecoming  in  a  man  who  intended  to 
consecrate  himself  to  the  Lord.  After  this  rcbufl",  the 
baroness,  too,  began  to  despair  of  restoring  to  her  son's 
mind  tlie  idi\is  which  he  had  formerly  entertained  as  to 
a  gentleman's  future,  and  which  the  fatal  event  tliat  we 
have  just  related  seemed  to  have  effaced  from  his  mind. 

Thus,  twelve  days  went  by,  during  which  the  baroness 
renewed  her  pleading,  but  always  in  vain.  At  last  she 
herself  had  apparently  renounced  all  hope,  and  lloger  was 
freed  from  her  motherly  besetments  which,  however,  he 
had  met  with  a  firmness  ever  tempered  with  respect  and 
veneration.  The  whole  of  the  thirteenth  day,  therefore, 
passed  in  sadness  and  very  nearly  in  silence;  for,  as 
Roger's  intention  had  been  the  never-ending  topic  of 
conversation  from  the  time  of  his  arrival  at  Anguilhem, 
as  soon  as  they  ceased  to  speak  of  that,  they  knew  not  of 
what  to  speak. 

The  evening  was  quieter  and  more  melancholy  even 
than  the  day  had  been,  and  each  retired  early  to  his  own 
room.  As  usual,  Roger  said  his  prayer  before  a  large 
picture  representing  Clirist  on  Mount  Calvary,  which,  on 
his  last  return,  already  occupied  with  religious  ideas,  he 
had  had  brought  into  his  bed-chamber  from  an  ancient 
chapel  in  the  chateau  which  had  been  converted  to  the 
uses  of  a  ground-floor  cellar.  Then,  wrought  up  into  one 
of  the  fervid  ecstasies  that  sometimes  took  possession  of 
him  after  his  prayer,  he  got  into  bed  and  very  soon  fell 
into  that  state  of  somnolence  which  is  neither  waking  nor 
sleeping. 

On  extinguishing  his  light,  Roger  had  remarked  a  cir- 
cumstance due  no  doubt  to  chance,  but  Avhich  in  his  pious 
fervor  he  had  attributed  to  one  of  those  special  favors 
which  he  believed  heaven  sometimes  granted  him.  A  ray 
of  moonlight,  falling  through  an  oval  aperture  made  in 


CONSTANCE  APPEARS  TO  THE  CHEVALIER.   107 

the  upper  part  of  the  shutter  that  closed  his  window, 
lighted  up  the  sacred  scene  of  the  picture,  placed  exactly 
opposite  the  foot  of  his  bed.  It  was  with  eyes  fixed  on 
this  picture  that  Roger  had  let  himself  sink  gradually 
into  that  religious  rapture  of  which  we  have  spoken  and 
which  began  to  fade  into  somnolence,  when  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  picture  was  turning  of  itself  and  that  a 
young  girl,  covered  with  a  long  white  robe  and  Avith 
veiled  face,  was  substituted,  by  a  slow  and  almost  insen- 
sible motion,  for  the  sacred  picture ;  then,  when  the 
painting  had  completely  disappeared  and  the  nocturnal 
ray  that  had  illuminated  it  shone  on  the  young  girl  with 
its  soft  light,  tlie  apparition  gently  raised  her  veil,  and 
Roger,  trembling  with  both  joy  and  fear,  recognized 
Constance. 

It  was  indeed  she,  it  was  indeed  that  charming  daughter 
of  earth  become  an  angel  of  heaven;  and  Roger's  first 
movement  was  to  rise  in  bed  and  extend  his  arms  to  her, 
but  by  a  wave  of  the  hand,  the  shade  signified  to  the 
youth  that  he  must  remain  where  he  was,  and  in  a  voice 
whose  every  tone  vibrated  to  the  depths  of  her  lover's 
heart,    she  said,  — 

"  Roger,  I  have  been  permitted  to  come  and  say  that 
the  sacrifice  you  wish  to  make  to  my  memory  is  too 
great.  It  is  not  your  destiny  to  bury  yourself  in  a  cloister, 
but  to  hand  down  the  name  of  your  fathers  which  would 
die  with  you ;  therefore  renounce,  I  entreat  you,  this  idea 
of  taking  the  vows,  and  if  need  be,  I  command  you. 
Adieu,  Roger,  remember  what  I  say ;  for  I  have  spoken 
the  will  of  the  Lord." 

At  these  words,  a  movement  the  reverse  of  that  which 
had  brought  the  white  vision  to  Roger's  view  took  place, 
and,  regaining  the  position  that  it  had  for  a  moment  left, 
the  picture  was  again  seen  in  the  light. 


108  SYLVANDIRE. 

Roger  had  nMiiaineJ  breatliless,  liis  brow  damp  with 
perspiration  and  his  eyes  wildly  staring,  as  h)ng  as  the 
vision  lasted;  but  scarcely  had  it  disappeared  when, 
doubting  his  senses,  he  leaped  out  of  bed  in  order  to 
assure  himself  by  touching  it  that  the  picture  was  indeed 
in  its  place.  Nothing  was  altered.  His  hands  ran  over 
the  frame,  the  canvas,  the  wainscoting,  and  he  con- 
vinced himself  that  no  one  could  either  have  entered  or 
left  the  room,  fastened  as  it  was  from  within.  It  was 
truly  then  the  spirit  of  Constance  that  had  appeared  to 
him. 

We  can  imagine  what  the  remainder  of  the  niglit  was 
to  Roger.  As  long  as  it  was  dark,  he  had  no  doubt  as 
to  the  reality  of  the  vision ;  she  was  there  still,  present 
to  his  sight.  He  saw  again  the  pale  sweet  face  of  his 
young  friend ;  he  heard  her  gentle  voice ;  he  felt,  so  to 
speak,  reaching  toward  him,  that  hand  whose  imperative 
movement  had  commanded  his  silence  and  quiescence, 
and  whose  gentle  gesture  had  bade  him  adieu.  But, 
whatever  the  young  man's  faith  and  trust,  when  the 
tints  of  dawn  came  to  chase  from  his  room  the  solemn 
and  mysterious  obscurity  of  the  night,  the  stones  of  the 
fanciful  castle  erected  in  a  dream  fell  one  by  one,  and 
he  passed  from  the  profoundest  conviction  to  the  most 
absolute  incredulity. 

Yet,  during  the  day  he  was  restless,  dreamy,  pre- 
occupied. Several  times  his  mother  inquired  what  cause 
had  brought  about  the  change  visible  in  him  since  the 
day  before,  but  the  baroness  obtained  no  answer  save  a 
wan  smile  full  of  melancholy.  As  for  the  baron,  he 
seemed  to  have  resigned  himself  to  the  chevalier's  de- 
termination, and  to  have  lost  all  hope  of  inducing  him 
to  renounce  his  project. 

The  day  passed,   however,   without  anything  unusual 


CONSTANCE  APPEARS  TO  THE  CHEVALIER.   109 

occurring.  Roger  left  the  chateau  and  went  for  a  walk  in 
the  little  wood  surrounding  it.  Occasionally,  quick  blushes 
suffused  his  countenance,  as  if  the  blood  were  suddenly 
rushing  from  his  heart  to  his  face ;  occasionally  he  would 
give  a  start,  and  his  eyes  would  seem  to  follow  through 
the  grove  a  fleeing  shadow,  visible  to  him  alone ;  then, 
suddenly,  a  deep  sigh  would  escape  him  and  two  great 
tears  fall  from  his  eyes.  That  was  much  for  Roger, 
since,  for  more  than  six  months,  he  had  not  been  known 
to  weep. 

Roger  waited  for  night  with  an  uneasiness  that  was 
mingled  with  dread.  More  than  once,  during  the  even- 
ing meal,  his  mother,  who  did  not  take  her  eyes  from 
him,  saw  him  furtively  wipe  away  the  perspiration  that 
beaded  his  forehead.  At  the  same  hour  as  on  the  day 
before,  he  asked  to  be  allowed  to  retire,  and  he  left  the 
dining-room  for  his  bed-chamber. 

We  have  told  how,  with  the  daylight,  doubt,  then  in- 
credulity, and  finally,  the  conviction  that  his  spiritual 
visitant  was  but  a  dream,  had  succeeded  each  other  in 
Roger's  mind;  but,  in  contrary  train,  with  the  approach 
of  night,  his  heart  began  to  resume  its  faith,  and,  when 
he  found  himself  alone  in  his  room,  lying  in  bed,  his 
light  extinguished,  when  he  again  saw  the  same  moon- 
light illumine  the  same  picture,  all  his  former  certainty 
returned  and  the  supposed  dream  again  enforced  on  him 
its  reality. 

There  was  almost  an  hour  of  silence,  during  which 
nothing  stirred  and  Roger  heard  only  the  beating  of  his 
heart.  For  an  hour  his  burning  eyes  were  unavailingly 
fixed  upon  the  motionless  picture;  then  suddenly  the 
frame  seemed  to  merge  into  the  wainscoting  and,  as  on 
the  night  before,  the  picture  receded  from  his  sight. 
After  a  moment  there  was  no  more  doubt,  for  he  began 


110  SYLVANDIRE. 

to  distinguish  the  whitu  robe  of  Constance,  then  the 
young  gii'l  distinctly  appeared ;  the  miracle  of  the  previous 
night  had  again  been  wrought. 

"  lioger, "  she  said,  "you  have  not  believed  my  words, 
and  I  am  permitted  to  come  and  repeat  them,  lloger, 
abandon  this  melancholy  resolution  which  brings  despair 
to  your  family.  Roger,  I  accept  not  the  sacrifice  that  you 
would  make.  You  are  born  for  the  world  and  not  for  the 
cloister;  live  for  the  world  and  be  happy." 

Then,  as  if  this  time  the  vision  still  feared  lest  doubt 
should  come  to  efface  the  impression  made  by  her  pres- 
ence, she  detached  from  her  girdle  a  cluster  of  pansies 
like  that  she  had  in  life  let  fall  in  the  corridor  of  the 
convent  at  Chinon;  and,  witli  the  gesture  made  in  wav- 
ing adieu,   she  let  it  fall  to  tlie  floor. 

Roger  sprang  from  his  bed;  but  already  the  picture 
was  in  its  place.  Not  a  trace  remained  of  the  maiden's 
apparition,  unless  it  were  the  bunch  of  pansies  which 
with  an  impulse,  full  at  once  of  joy  and  fear,  an  impulse, 
we  must  confess,  infinitely  more  worldly  than  pious,  the 
chevalier  carried  to  his  lips. 

There  was  no  room  for  doubt  this  time;  a  material, 
visible,  tangible  proof  of  the  gracious  phantom's  passage 
had  remained  in  Roger's  hands.  The  young  man  re- 
turned to  his  bed  pressing  the  flowers  to  his  heart,  and 
still  expecting  some  new  apparition.  But  it  was  in 
vain. 

He  was  awake  with  the  day.  This  time,  as  before,  his 
first  impulse  was  to  believe  that  he  had  dreamed;  but  the 
flowers  were  there  in  his  hand,  faded,  but  present.  Ah  ! 
this  time,  the  matter  presented  an  aspect  very  different 
from  yesterday's;  the  shade  of  Constance,  wrested  from 
her  tomb  by  a  miracle  of  love,  had  really  been  present 
with  him. 


CONSTANCE  APPEARS  TO  THE  CHEVALIER.   Ill 

On  the  morrow,  Roger  was  to  set  out  on  his  return  to 
Amboise;  hut  would  the  gracious  apparition  dare  to 
follow  him  to  Amhoise,  into  the  midst  of  that  formidable 
assemblage  of  black-robed  men  1  Would  not  going  back 
be  to  disobey  the  orders  of  those  lips  that  he  had  so 
loved  ? 

But  how  could  he  retract  a  determination  so  publicly 
signified  ?  How,  after  having  resisted  every  entreaty  of 
his  father  and  his  mother,  could  he  himself  suggest  pro- 
longing his  stay  at  Anguilhem  ?  It  was  impossible,  worse 
than  impossible,  it  was  ridiculous  ;  and  Roger,  let  us  say, 
for  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  be  eternally  sounding  his 
praises,  was  possessed  of  almost  as  much  self-respect  as 
love. 

The  day  passed  then  in  mutual  constraint.  The  baron, 
as  usual,  seemed  reconciled  to  the  separation ;  but  the 
poor  mother  did  not  lose  sight  of  her  son.  It  was  plain 
that  only  the  fear  of  another  refusal  restrained  her  plead- 
ings. On  his  side,  Roger  wished  nothing  better  than  to 
be  detained  ;  the  result  was  that  only  an  opportunity  was 
needed  for  them  to  come  to  an  understanding.  The  Aljbe 
Dubuquoi  supplied  the  opportunity  by  asking  his  pupil  at 
what  hour  he  intended  to  depart  on  the  next  day.  Roger 
endeavored  to  answer  and  stammered  ;  the  baroness  at 
once  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  asking  if  it  were 
really  true  that  he  was  still  determined  to  forsake  her. 
Then  Roger  was  unable  to  restrain  his  tears,  tears  at 
once  of  grief  and  joy,  and,  in  a  low,  submissive  voice,  but 
to  us  who  know  the  motive  by  which  he  was  actuated, 
full  of  hypocrisy,  he  said,  — 

"  Madame,  are  you  not  my  mother,  and  should  I  not 
obey  you  1     Command  me,  then,  and  I  will  obey." 

The  baroness  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  hastened  through 
the  house  proclaiming  to  all  whom  she  met  that  her  son 


112  SYLVANDIKE. 

would  not  go  until  later,  and  perhaps  he  would  not  go 
at  all. 

Koger  left  his  parents  at  the  same  hour  as  on  the  pre- 
vious evening ;  he  was  in  haste  to  return  to  his  room. 
This  time,  however,  he  entered  it  with  a  greater,  a  far 
more  terrible  doubt.  The  phantom  had  seemed  to  read 
his  thought,  since,  on  the  preceding  night,  it  hail  come  to 
dissipate  his  hesitations.  Therefore,  now  that  all  uncer- 
tainty was  gone,  now  that  he  had  indeed  decided  to  fol- 
low the  commands  given  him  by  the  spirit  of  Constance, 
now  that  he  had  even  promised  his  mother  that  he  would 
not  go  away,  might  not  the  phantom  think  its  mission 
accomplished,  and  consider  it  needless  to  appear  again? 
It  was  an  anxious  thought.  Roger  was  becoming  accus- 
tomed to  that  lovely  shade,  which  was  at  least  some 
amends  in  default  of  the  substance. 

And  so,  once  shut  up  in  his  room,  Roger  lost  no  time 
in  getting  into  bed  and  extinguishing  his  light ;  but  the 
moon  had  begun  to  wane,  so  that  the  illuminating  beam, 
which  the  night  before  had  been  late,  was  this  evening 
later  still.  At  last,  after  having  lighted  up  in  succession 
the  corner  of  the  room  and  then  the  frame,  it  settled  upon 
the  picture  :  it  was  the  moment  so  impatiently  awaited  by 
the  chevalier.  iS'ever  did  invocation  fall  more  earnestly 
from  lips  of  enchanter  than  did  that  which  escaped  the 
poor  chevalier's  when  beseeching  Constance  to  appear 
again,  if  only  for  a  last  time.  And  the  chevalier's  prayer 
was  granted. 

This  time  again,  as  on  the  night  before,  and  the  night 
before  that,  the  picture  disappeared,  and  the  white  vision 
came  in  its  place.     Roger  uttered  a  cry  of  joy. 

"Yes,  it  is  I,"  said  the  apparition;  "it  is  I,  come  to 
say  adieu.  Adieu,  then  !  You  have  obeyed  the  will  of 
the  Lord ;  may  the  Lord  recompense  you.    Adieu,  adieu  ! " 


CONSTANCE  APPEARS  TO  THE  CHEVALIER.   113 

And  while  the  phantom  was  disappearing  with  these 
words,  it  seemed  to  the  chevalier  that  he  heard  two  or 
three  badly  stifled  sobs,  which  proved  that  the  dead  re- 
gi'etted  the  new  separation  as  much  as  the  living. 

"  Oh !  no,  no  ! "  cried  Roger,  springing  out  of  bed ; 
"  oh  !  no,  not  adieu,  not  adieu  !  Oh,  if  I  thought  I  should 
never  see  you  again,  Constance,  Constance,  I  should  go 
mad  ! " 

And  Roger  fell  on  his  knees  at  the  foot  of  the  picture, 
his  hands  held  out  to  the  Saviour,  entreating  him  who 
had  suffered  to  have  pity  on  him  who  was  suffering. 

But  Roger  was  invoking  only  a  senseless  picture,  a 
speechless  canvas.  He  was  alone ;  the  last  vibrations 
of  Constance's  voice  were  extinguished ;  the  shade  had 
disappeared. 

Then  he  regained  his  bed,  quite  overcome  with  grief ; 
he  had  heard  Constance's  adieu  ;  what  he  dreaded  had 
happened.  That  appearance  was  the  last,  the  stone  had 
fallen  back  upon  the  tomb,  the  stone  would  never  be 
lifted  again. 

It  seemed  to  Roger  as  if  he  were  losing  Constance  a 
second  time.  He  passed  more  than  an  hour  in  a  state  of 
feverish  agitation  amounting  almost  to  despair.  That 
thrice  repeated  adieu,  the  last  two  spoken  with  sobs,  kept 
ringing  in  his  ears,  and,  without  knowing  what  he  spoke, 
he  himself  repeated  involuntarily,  — 

"  Adieu  !   adieu  !  " 

Suddenly  it  seemed  to  Roger  that  a  sound  of  light  foot- 
steps, an  almost  inaudible  sound,  a  sound  that  might  betray 
a  sylph  walking  over  the  flowers,  came  from  the  other  side 
of  the  wainscoting.  Roger  rose  in  bed,  despairing,  hoping, 
and  trembling  at  once,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  picture,  now 
left  in  obscurity  ;  but,  in  spite  of  the  dim  light,  it  seemed 

to  him  that  the  frame,  which  alone  stood  out  in  the  night, 

8 


114  SYLVANDIRE. 

was  again  moving ;  soon  he  doubted  no  longer,  the  picture 
was  turning. 

Constance  appeared  for  the  second  time ;  but  this 
time  the  apparition  left  the  wainscoted  wall,  and  spring- 
ing lightly  to  the  floor,  ran  toward  the  youth,  crying,  — 

"  Koger  !  Roger  !  I  am  not  dead.  Roger  !  I  am  not 
the  spirit  of  Constance  !     I  am  Constance  herself!  " 

And,  simultaneously,  the  chevalier,  almost  mad  with 
joy,  became  sensible  of  the  fact  that  it  was  indeed  no 
ghost  but  a  living  being  that  he  was  holding  in  his  arms. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BOUZENOIS.  115 


VIII. 

HOW  IT  WAS  LEARN^ED  AT  ANGUILHEM  AND  AT  BEU" 
ZERIE  THAT  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BOUZENOIS,  EX- 
CAPTAIN  OF  THE  FRIGATE  THETIS,  HAD  DIED  IN- 
TESTATE, AND  WHAT  MODIFICATIONS  THE  NEWS 
WROUGHT    IN   THE   PLANS    OF    THE    TWO    FAMILIES. 

In  few  words,  Constance  acquainted  Eoger  with  what 
had  taken  place. 

The  time  which  our  fugitive  had  lost  in  travelling 
from  Amboise  to  Chinon  had  given  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi 
ample  time  to  hasten  to  Anguilhem  and  inform  the 
baron  and  the  baroness  of  the  chevalier's  new  escapade. 
Thereupon  they  had  rightly  conjectured  that  he  was 
headed  for  Chinon,  and  they  had  considered  plans  for 
putting  an  end  to  this  amorous  waywardness  which  bade 
fair  to  leave  the  parents  of  the  two  young  people  not  a 
moment's  repose.  The  Abbe  Dubuquoi  had  then  con- 
ceived the  happy  inspiration  of  proposing  to  the  baron 
that  Roger  should  be  made  to  believe  that  Constance  was 
dead.  The  baroness,  understanding  with  her  mother's 
heart  that  such  unexpected  news  would  prostrate  her  son 
with  grief,  had  for  a  long  time  held  out  against  the 
fraud.  Finally  she  was  obliged  to  yield  to  the  plausible 
reasoning  of  her  husband,  and  the  baron  had  set  off  to 
take  the  mother  superior  into  the  plot.  As  it  chanced, 
a  nun  had  died  but  two  days  before.  Thus  every  facility 
was  presented  for  the  execution  of  the  plan. 

We  have  seen  how  the  plan  was  carried  out. 


116  SYLVANDIRE. 

But  what  they  had  not  been  able  to  foresee  was  the 

intensity  of  the  grief  excited  in  tlie  clievalier  by  this 

news;    and   what  they  had    especially    ])een    \inable    to 

•  predict  was  tlie  final   decision  to  which  his  grief   had 

led. 

So,  Avhcn  the  news  reached  Anguilhem  that  Roger 
wished  to  become  a  Jesuit,  the  baron  and  the  baroness 
were  reduced  to  the  depths  of  despair.  As  we  have 
seen,  the  baron  set  out  immediately  for  Amboise,  hoping 
that  his  paternal  influence  would  restore  the  chevalier 
to  more  rational  ideas;  but,  after  the  first  conversa- 
tion held  with  his  son,  the  baron  had  seen  that  the 
resolution  was  thoroughly  grounded  in  the  chevalier's 
mind,  and  that  nothing  in  the  world  would  ujjroot  it. 

He  at  once  wrote  to  the  baroness  to  acquaint  her  Avith 
the  desperate  certainty  at  which  he  had  just  arrived. 

And  then  the  baroness  also  had  formed  a  scheme,  — 
one  inspired  by  her  motherly  heart,  —  which  was  to  call 
to  her  aid  Constance,  whom  the  chevalier  believed  to  be 
dead,  to  command  the  unhappy  boy  to  relinquish  his 
foolish  intention.  She  herself  had  repaired  to  Beu- 
zerie.  She  had  so  pleaded  with  the  viscountess,  so  en- 
treated the  viscount,  that  neither  was  able  to  withstand 
the  baroness'  tears,  and  they  consented  that  their  daughter 
should  seem  to  return  from  the  other  world  in  order  to 
restore  the  chevalier  to  this. 

Then  the  baroness  had  written  to  her  husband,  asking 
him  to  exact,  at  least,  that  the  chevalier  should  return 
and  spend  a  fortnight  at  Anguilhem  before  taking  a  final 
resolution,  a  request  that  Roger  had  been  unable  to 
deny  his  father.  "We  have  seen  how  the  first  twelve 
days  passed  at  Anguilhem,  and  how  the  chevalier's 
obstinacy  had  rendered  the  intervention  of  Constance 
indispensable. 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BOUZENOIS.  117 

Everything  had  gone  as  the  parents  had  desired.  The 
piece  of  mechanism,  prepared  by  the  most  skilful  car- 
penter in  Loches,  had  worked  to  perfection.  The 
baron  and  the  baroness  had  closely  followed  the  impres- 
sion made  on  their  son  by  the  successive  apparitions  of 
Constance ;  the  third  had  finally  completed  the  work  of 
the  first  two.  Constance,  occupying  a  room  with  her 
mother  in  one  of  the  remotest  corners  of  the  chateau, 
had  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  despair  in  her  heart  said 
her  last  adieux  to  Roger,  when,  her  grief  sweeping  away 
every  other  consideration,  she  had  herself  taken  a  firm 
resolve  and,  profiting  by  her  mother's  slumber,  she  had 
risen,  dressed  herself  again,  gone  out  on  tiptoe,  and, 
rid  of  the  surveillance  of  those  who  until  then  had  dic- 
tated her  speech  and  curbed  her  feelings,  she  sped  from 
corridor  to  corridor  to  the  place  in  the  wainscoting 
wliere  she  had  been  accustomed  to  take  her  stand, 
pushed  the  spring,  and  appeared  to  the  chevalier,  no 
longer  as  a  shadow,  but  as  an  entrancing  reality. 

E/Oger  was  a  youth  of  quick  impulses.  Dazed  for  a 
moment,  —  as  if  a  dead  man  should  be  dragged  from  his 
grave,  and,  on  suddenly  opening  his  eyes,  he  should 
again  behold  the  sky  and  find  himself  restored  to  life 
and  happiness,  —  he  had  only  enough  strength  not  to 
fall  crushed  beneath  the  weight  of  his  joy ;  but,  that 
moment  gone,  he  saw  that  the  opportunity,  so  long 
sought  by  him,  had  come  of  its  own  accord,  unique, 
sudden,  fleeting,  and  he  instantly  resolved  not  to  let  it 
escape  him. 

A  moment  later  the  chevalier  was  ready.  As  for 
Constance,  she  had  written  her  lover  that  her  life  be- 
longed no  longer  to  herself  but  to  him,  and  that  it  was 
for  him  to  dispose  of  it.  When,  therefore,  he  proposed 
that  they  should  that  very  instant  fly  together,  and  gain 


118  SYLVANDIRE. 

the  nearest  village  Avliorc  they  could  he  married,  not 
only  did  she  oiler  no  o])jection,  but  she  assured  him  that 
she  was  ready  to  follow  hiiu  to  the  end  of  the  earth. 
The  chevalier  no  longer  doubted  that  he  was  at  last 
entering  upon  the  conclusion  of  his  romance. 

The  two  immediately  set  out,  gliding  along  the  corri- 
dors and  down  the  staircase  as  noiselessly  as  two 
shadows,  and  at  last  they  reached  the  court.  Roger  ran 
to  the  stable,  saddled  Christopher,  who  had  for  some 
time  been  resting  from  his  past  fatigues,  but  who, 
always  kind  and  docile,  allowed  himself  to  be  handled 
without  resistance.  Then  he  partly  opened  the  great 
gate  as  quietly  as  possible,  sprang  upon  Christopher, 
made  Constance  get  up  on  a  stone  block,  and  forced  the 
horse  close  enough  for  her  to  mount  behind  hira. 
Then,  when  the  maiden  was  well  established,  Roger 
set  off  at  a  gallop. 

They  kept  up  this  gait  for  two  hours;  but,  as  it  was 
in  the  month  of  July,  that  is,  when  the  days  are  the 
longest  of  the  year,  at  the  end  of  those  two  hours  day- 
light had  begun  to  appear.  Roger  then  thought  it  expe- 
dient to  diminish  his  speed,  since  a  youth  and  maiden 
riding  at  full  gallop  must  excite  suspicion.  He  ob- 
served at  the  same  time,  on  their  right,  a  village  which 
he  recognized  as  La  Chapelle-Saint-Hippolyte,  and  he 
turned  in  the  direction  of  this  village. 

Of  matrimonial  procedure  Roger  had  no  knowledge 
but  what  he  had  extracted  from  the  fiction  of  the  day. 
Now,  in  the  romantic  tales  of  the  time,  all  marriages 
opposed  by  the  parents  were  solemnized  without  their 
knowledge  by  some  good  priest  of  the  village,  who,  acting 
upon  the  letter  of  the  Lord's  commandment  given  to  our 
forefathers  to  increase  and  multiply,  believed  himself  to 
be  obeying  the  precept  of  the  Bible  in  sanctifying  as 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BOUZENOIS.  119 

many  marriages  as  possible.  Full  of  confidence,  there- 
fore, Roger  proceeded  to  the  parsonage,  and,  having 
knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  opened  by  a  plump, 
kind-looking  housekeeper  of  thirty-five  or  forty  years, 
he  asked  to  speak  with  the  cure. 

The  cure  was  getting  ready  to  say  mass,  which  to 
Eoger  seemed  a  good  omen.  He  explained  as  briefly  as 
possible  to  the  cure  what  had  brought  them,  and  asked 
if  he  could  not  perform  the  marriage  ceremony  forth- 
with. The  good  priest  smiled  at  the  young  man's 
haste;  but  he  explained  that  there  were  a  few  pre- 
paratory formalities  to  be  gone  through  with,  such  as 
confessing,  giving  their  family  and  baptismal  names, 
swearing  that  they  were  not  related  in  any  degree  pro- 
hibited by  the  church,  etc. ,  etc. ;  that  these  formalities 
always  necessitated  a  delay  of  twenty-four  or  thirty-six 
hours;  that,  consequently,  however  good  his  own  will 
in  the  matter,  the  marriage  blessing  could  not  be  pro- 
nounced until  the  morrow  or  the  day  after.  However, 
while  waiting,  the  two  young  people  might  stay  at  the 
parsonage,  Eoger  in  the  charge  of  the  cure,  and  Con- 
stance in  that  of  his  housekeeper.  This  mischance  was 
very  distasteful  to  Eoger,  as  he  insisted  most  emphati- 
cally; but  the  cure  was  inflexible  and,  as  he  declared 
that  none  of  his  fellow  cures  would  be  any  more  tract- 
able than  himself,  Eoger  preferred  staying  at  La 
Chapelle-Saint-Hippolyte  rather  than  going  to  another 
village,  a  course  which ,  without  affording  him  prompter 
opportunities,  would  expose  him  to  recognition,  or,  at 
least,  to  notice. 

The  cure  then  went  to  say  mass;  and,  as  he  seemed 
to  share  Eoger's  fears,  he  cautioned  the  two  children 
against  being  seen  at  either  door  or  window.  Then, 
on  his   return,  he   proceeded   to   the   usual   questions- 


120  SYLVANDIRE. 

The  young  man  declared  tliat  his  own  name  was  Roger 
Tancrede  d'Anguilhom,  and  tliat  the  young  girl's  was 
Agla^  Constance  de  Beuzerie ;  that  the  former  was  aged 
seventeen  yoars  and  five  months;  the  latter,  fifteen 
years  lacking  eight  days.  Moreover,  they  hoth  took 
oath  that  they  were  neither  co -sponsors  nor  cousins  nor 
related,  in  short,  in  any  degree  whatever. 

The  cure  then  told  them  to  prepare  for  confession, 
each  making  examination  of  his  conscience,  while  he 
himself  went  to  attend  to  some  urgent  duties. 

On  his  return  the  two  confessions  took  place,  Need- 
less to  say  they  were  those  of  two  children,  pure  and 
chaste,  and,  while  confessing  the  love  that  until  then 
had  led  them  into  such  foolish  enterprises,  neither  of 
them  had  cause  to  blush  even  for  a  thought. 

The  double  confession  seemed  completely  to  reassure 
the  good  cure,  who  until  then  had  not  appeared  quite 
free  from  some  uneasiness.  Then,  under  the  pretext 
that  it  was  essential  that  the  two  young  souls  should 
sin  neither  in  thought  nor  deed  nor  by  omission  during 
the  interval  which  separated  the  absolution  and  the 
marriage  ceremony,  he  shut  Roger  in  the  studj'^  that 
contained  his  ecclesiastical  library,  and  Constance  in  his 
housekeeper's  room. 

At  dinner,  however,  the  two  young  people  came 
together  again.  Roger  then  asked  the  cure  if  he 
thought  he  could  marry  them  on  the  next  day,  to  which 
the  worthy  man  replied  that  he  saw  no  difficulty  unless 
some  obstacle  were  meanwhile  to  intervene.  This 
assurance  somewhat  allayed  Roger's  uneasiness,  and 
enabled  him  after  dinner  to  withdraw  to  the  library 
without  much  difficulty.  There  he  found  a  cot  which 
had  been  made  up  while  he  was  at  table. 

The  hour  of  supper  arrived.     As  in  the  morning,  the 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BOUZENOIS.  121 

two  young  people  again  found  themselves  face  to  face. 
Roger  was  beaming  with  happiness.  After  the  miracle 
of  resurrection  that  had  been  effected,  he  thought 
separation  no  longer  possible.  Constance  was  shy  and 
blushing;  but  joy  glinted  in  luminous  sparks  from  her 
drooping  eyelids;  happiness  forced  a  passage  with  every 
word  that  escaped  her  lips. 

After  supper  -the  cure  said  prayers  for  every  one. 
Then,  prayers  being  over,  each  retired  to  his  own 
apartment. 

Eoger  tried  to  read ;  but  how  can  one  read  when  a 
thought  goes  thrilling  through  the  heart,  sweeter, 
tenderer,  more  tuneful  than  any  other  thought  on  earth! 
And  yet  he  read  that  wondrous  poem,  the  love  of  Jacob 
and  Rachel ;  but  he  discovered  that  Rachel  was  of  small 
consequence  in  comparison  with  Constance,  and  he  con- 
fessed to  himself  that  to  deserve  Constance  he  ought  to 
undergo  many  other  proofs  than  those  to  which  Jacob 
had  been  subjected.  And  besides,  it  was  a  way  to  pass 
the  time  quickly,  to  spend  it  in  dreaming.  Eleven 
o'clock  sounded,  and  at  each  solemn  and  measured 
stroke  of  the  clock,  Roger  trembled  as  he  thought 
that  in  eight  hours  he  would  be  the  husband  of 
Constance. 

That  sweet  thought  accompanied  him  to  bed  and 
pursued  him  during  his  sleep.  He  dreamed  that  it  was 
day,  and  that  some  one  had  entered  his  room  to  say  that 
the  priest  was  waiting  only  for  him.  Just  then  it 
seemed  to  Roger  that  he  really  did  see  daylight  through 
his  half-shut  eyelids,  and  that  several  voices  were  speak- 
ing loudly  near  him.  The  feeling  was  so  real  that 
Roger  awoke,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  his  father. 

At  sight  of  him  Roger's  countenance  assumed  an  ex- 


122  SYLVANDIRE. 

pression  of  despair  that  however  thoroughly  prepared 
the  baron  might  liavo  hccn  to  administer  a  severe  repri- 
mand to  the  confirmed  runaway,  he  liad  not  the  heart  to 
do  it,  and  already  discerning  the  sullcring  of  the  man  in 
that  poor  child's  soul,  he  Avas  satislied  to  hold  out  his 
hand,  as  he  pronounced  the  one  word,  — 

"Courage!  " 

Perhaps  Kogcr  might  have  resisted  reproaches,  but  he 
could  not  hold  out  against  indulgence.  He  cast  himself 
into  the  baron's  arms,  asking  him  if  he  was  going  to 
take  him  away  from  Constance.  The  baron  regarded 
him  fixedly,  and  seeing  the  anxiety  depicted  on  every 
feature,  he  said, — 

"  Listen :  my  first  word  was  courage  !  my  second  shall 
be  hope  ! " 

"0  father,  father!"  cried  Eoger;  "I  have  already 
been  so  cruelly  deceived,  that  I  really  can  hope  no 
longer. " 

"  But  when  we  deceived  you,  Eoger,"  said  the  baron, 
"  we  were  poor,  while  now  —  " 

"  Now,  father,  are  we  rich?  " 

"Possibly,"  replied  the  baron. 

"  Possibly  !  "  cried  "Roger,  "  possibly  !  What  do  you 
mean,  father?  How  can  our  fortune  have  changed  in  a 
day  1  " 

"  Our  cousin  the  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois  is  dead.  We 
received  the  news  this  morning,  the  baroness  and  I." 

"  Died  naming  us  his  heirs  1 "  eagerly  demanded 
Eoger. 

"  If  that  were  the  case,  I  should  not  have  said  that 
possibly  we  were  rich.  I  should  have  said  that  we  were 
rich  to  a  certainty.     The  viscount  died  intestate." 

"Intestate,  father?" 

"Yes,  intestate,  chevalier." 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BOUZENOIS.  123 

The  baron  pronounced  the  word  with  such  emphatic 
deliberation  that  the  chevalier  thought  it  must  be  of  the 
highest  importance. 

"  Then  what  follows  1  "  asked  the  young  man  in  a 
faltering  voice,  for  he  did  not  yet  see  how  the  death 
of  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois  brought  him  nearer  to 
Constance. 

"  This,  monsieur,"  replied  the  baron.  "  The  succes- 
sion is  open,  and  is  disputed  with  us  only  by  a  son  of  a 
former  marriage,  who  pretends  that  his  mother  gave  her 
property  to  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois  only  on  condition 
that  the  entire  fortune  should  revert  to  himself." 

"Well,  father?" 

"  Well ,  the  documents  are  in  the  hands  of  the  public 
administrator.  A  lawsuit  will  follow;  but  Coquenard, 
my  attorney,  writes  me  that  we  cannot  lose  the  suit  if 
we  push  it  with  ever  so  little  activity  and  intelligence, 
and,  if  we  gain  this  lawsuit  —  " 

"  If  we  gain  the  lawsuit,  father  —  " 

"  We  shall  have  an  income  of  seventy-five  thousand 
livres,  nothing  less;  and  then.  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie 
does  the  courting  and  we  do  the  looking  down  from  the 
height  of  grandeur;  we,  in  short,  make  the  sacrifice,  in 
forming  an  alliance  with  him." 

"0  father,  father,  what  hope  you  hold  out!"  cried 
Roger;  "  what!  do  you  believe,  do  you  think  —  " 

"  I  know  what  I  believe;  I  know  what  I  think,"  said 
the  baron.  "  The  kind  cure  whom  you  took  into  your 
confidence  expedited  a  messenger  to  Beuzerie  as  well 
as  to  Anguilhem.  Consequently,  I  met  the  viscount 
three  leagues  from  here,  hastening  after  his  daughter, 
just  as  I  was  hurrying  after  you.  He  was  furious  at 
what  had  happened ;  but ,  at  the  first  word  I  breathed  to 
him  of  Maitre  Coquenard's  letter  he  was  much  appeased, 


124  SYLVAXDIRE. 

and  li.as  even  permitted  it  to  appear  that,  after  the 
scandal  to  wliich  your  flight  with  his  daughter  Avould  not 
fail  to  give  rise  in  the  noighl)orhood,  he  regarded  before- 
hand his  marriage  project  with  the  Comte  de  Croisey  as 
broken  olf." 

"  0  father,  father,  what  are  you  saying?  " 

"  You  imderstand,  monsieur,"  replied  the  baron,  "  it 
was  an  appeal  to  my  honor. " 

"  And  what  did  you  say ,  father  1  " 

"  I  said  that  between  ourselves,  as  gentlemen,  a  title 
Avas  only  a  title,  that  the  name  was  everything,  and  that 
it  was  known  throughout  the  province  that,  although 
the  d'Anguilhems  were  only  barons,  they  dated  from  the 
first  crusades,  while  at  the  beginning  of  our  great  king's 
reign,  tlie  Comte  de  Croisey 's  grandfather  had  been  at 
great  pains  to  prove  that  he  was  qualified  to  enter  His 
Majesty's  stables;  which  was  the  same  as  saying  that 
if  the  Baronne  d'Anguilhem  Avere  presented  at  court, 
she  would  certainly  take  precedence  of  the  Marquise  de 
Croisey." 

"  What  did  he  say  1  " 

"  He  held  out  his  hand  and  answered,  *  That  is  true, 
baron ;  we  will  talk  of  that  again. '  " 

"0  monsieur!  0  father!  "  exclaimed  Koger,  "  how 
good  you  are  !    And  Constance,  where  is  Constance?" 

"  Constance  is  with  her  father,  as  I  am  with  you. 
Constance  will  return  to  Beuzerie,  as  we  shall  return  to 
Anguilhem,  I  shall  pay  a  visit  to  the  viscount  to- 
morrow, and  then  we  shall  talk  all  this  over." 

"  0  father  !  "  said  Eoger,  "  lay  great  stress  on  my 
love ;  say  that  I  adore  Constance ;  say  that  I  cannot  live 
without  her;  say  that  —  say  that  I  shall  die  if  they  take 
her  away  from  me,  say  —  " 

"  I  shall  say  that,  in  all  probability,  you  will  one  day 


1 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BOUZENOIS.  125 

have  an  income  of  seventy-five  thousand  livres,  and 
believe  me,  monsieur,  such  eloquence  will  outweigh 
yours." 

"  Say  what  you  will,  dear  father,  but  obtain  an  answer 
from  the  viscount." 

"In  this  matter  let  me  act,"  said  the  baron;  "for, 
rest  assured,  I  know  better  than  you  what  course  to 
take. " 

"  And  —  and  —  "  stammered  Roger. 

"  And  what  ?  "  asked  the  baron. 

"  And  Constance  1  " 

"  Well ,  and  Constance  1  " 

"  Shall  I  not  see  her  again  ?  " 

"  That,  monsieur,  is  quite  impossible.  You  can  now 
see  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  only  under  the  paternal 
roof,  and  with  the  consent  of  the  viscount  and  the 
viscountess. " 

"And  do  you  think,  monsieur,"  ventured  Roger, 
timidly,  "  that  their  consent  will  be  long  in  coming?  " 

"  In  three  or  four  days,  I  hope." 

"  In  three  or  four  days !  "  said  Roger ;  "  alas !  that  is  a 
very  long  time. " 

"  And  when  you  thought  never  to  see  her  again,  it 
was  a  much  longer  time,  it  seems  to  me." 

"And,  too,"  added  Roger,  "I  wished  to  become  a 
Jesuit." 

"Yes,  yes,  monsieur,"  said  the  baron,  "yes,  I 
know  it,  indeed.  You  had  quantities  of  ideas,  each 
more  ingenious  than  the  other;  oh!  you  are  a  man  of 
resources  !  We  will  give  your  imagination  something 
to  do." 

"  In  what  way ,  father  1  " 

"  We  will  tell  you  at  Anguilhem." 

And,  without  the  chevalier's  being  able  to  gain  any 


126  SYLVANDIRE. 

enlightenment  from  tlio  baron  on  the  scheme  in  which 
he  seemed  to  be  the  chief  actor,  they  both  mounted  their 
horses  and  took  the  road  to  the  chateau. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  the  baron  alone  took 
leave  of  the  good  curd,  and  that  Roger  by  no  means 
begged  the  favor  of  bidding  him  adieu. 


THE  CHEYALIEK's  MAKRIAGE  NEAKLY  ARRANGED.  127 


IX. 


how  and  on"  what  terms  the  marriage  of  made- 
moiselle de  beuzerie  with  the  chevalier 
d'anguilhem  came  near  being  arranged  by 
their  next  of  kin. 

This  was  the  third  time  that  Roger  was  returning  to 
Anguilhem  after  having  seen  his  plans  frustrated;  but 
this  tiroe,  however,  he  was  not  returning  quite  without 
hope.  Notwithstanding  Roger's  ignorance  of  the  ways 
of  the  world,  he  realized  perfectly  the  change  wrought 
in  his  projects  by  the  death  of  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois, 
even  supposing  that,  as  his  father  had  said,  the  ex- 
captain's  inheritance  were  subject  to  a  lawsuit. 

Upon  his  arrival  at  the  chateau  his  hopes  were  re- 
doubled, for  the  baroness,  who  was  watching  for  the 
baron  and  his  son  at  the  tower-window  which  commanded 
a  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  descended  at  sight 
of  them,  and  appeared  at  the  door  with  a  smiling  coun- 
tenance. Roger  spurred  his  horse  directly  toward  her, 
dismounted,  and  cast  himself  into  her  arms  whis- 
pering,— 

"  Do  you,  too,  hope,  mother?  Oh!  don't  deceive  me, 
don't  deceive  me!  " 

"Yes,  my  child,  yes,  my  dear  child,"  returned  the 
baroness;  "  yes,  be  tranquil;  all  will  go  well." 

In  fact  the  baroness,  like  her  husband,  had  witnessed 
a  metamorphosis.  When  the  viscountess,  who  had 
accompanied  Constance  to  Anguilhem,  had  in  the  morn- 


128  SYLVANDIRE. 

ing  discovered  her  daughter's  lliglit,  she  was  furiously 
angry.  In  the  very  midst  of  the  explosion  of  maternal 
wrath  camo  the  letter  from  IMaitre  Coquenard,  announ- 
cing to  the  d'Anguilhems  the  deatli  of  Monsieur  de 
Bouzenois.  Now  that  letter  had  quieted  the  viscountess 
as  by  magic,  and  she  liad  appeared  incontinently  to  for- 
get a  portion  of  her  grief  in  sharing  the  good  news  that 
her  neighbors  had  just  received.  Finally,  Avhen  the 
messenger  from  the  cure  of  La  Chapellc-Saint-Hippolyte 
had  arrived  at  the  chateau  all  out  of  breath,  announcing 
that  the  runaways  were  at  the  parsonage,  it  was  almost 
with  a  feeling  of  regret  that  the  viscountess  heard  that, 
thanks  to  the  scruples  of  the  good  priest,  the  two  children 
were  not  married.  However,  as  she  was  unaware  that 
the  same  message  had  been  despatched  to  her  husliand 
as  well  as  to  the  baron,  and  as  she  wished  to  tell  the 
viscount  at  once  of  the  flight  and  of  the  event  which 
made  that  flight  almost  good  luck,  she  ordered  her  horse 
and  coach,  which,  in  order  that  Roger  should  not  remark 
her  presence,  had  been  left  at  the  farmer's,  and  she  set 
out  for  Beuzerie,  after  having,  in  her  adieux  to  the 
baroness,  let  fall  a  few  words  intimating  as  clearly  as 
possible  that  a  visit  from  the  baron  at  Beuzerie  Avould 
not  only  be  well  received,  but  that,  under  the  circum- 
stances, it  was  regarded  by  herself  as  indispensable. 

The  outlook,  therefore,  continued  to  be  as  favorable 
in  the  direction  of  the  viscountess  as  it  had  been  in  the 
viscount's.  As  for  Constance,  the  chevalier  had  reason 
to  know  that  he  could  depend  on  her. 

Hence  in  a  general  council  at  which  assisted  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi,  whose  duties  were  rapidly  being  converted 
into  a  sinecure,  it  was  arranged  that  the  baron  should 
the  next  day  pay  a  visit  to  Beuzerie  and  speak  of  the 
marriage  or  be  silent,  as  circumstances  demanded;  but 


THE  chevaliee's  maekiage  neatily  areanged.    129 

the  general  opinion,  even  the  abbe's,  was  tliat  he  would 
incontestably  have  to  bring  up  the  subject  of  the 
marriage. 

The  great  day,  so  impatiently  awaited  by  Eoger,  came 
at  last.  At  six  o'clock  he  was  up  and  had  awakened  his 
father.  But  the  baron  was  too  punctilious  an  observer 
of  the  proprieties  to  present  himself  at  Beuzerie  before 
noon.  Roger  had  therefore  to  curb  his  impatience, 
which  he  did  by  talking  to  his  mother  of  Constance. 

At  nine  o'clock,  mounted  on  Cln-istopher,  the  baron 
departed.  Eoger  exacted  a  promise  that  he  would 
remain  at  Beuzerie  no  longer  than  was  strictly  necessary 
for  discussing  the  various  conditions  relating  to  his 
marriage.  The  baron  promised  to  return  by  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon. 

At  two  o'clock  Roger  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He 
slung  his  gamebag  across  his  back,  shouldered  his  gun, 
untied  Castor,  who,  quite  unlike  Christopher,  had 
remained  for  more  than  a  year  in  a  state  of  repose,  and 
took  the  road  to  Beuzerie.  AVhen  he  had  gone  almost  a 
third  of  the  way,  he  cavight  sight  of  the  baron  who  was 
coming  back  at  full  trot.     His  gait  was  a  good  omen. 

A  few  strides  and  Roger  was  at  his  side. 

In  fact  the  news  was  good,  and  everything  was  settled, 
if  not  quite  to  Roger's  taste,  at  least  to  his  father's. 

Roger's  suit  was  tacitly  approved  by  the  viscount  and 
the  viscountess.  The  next  day  the  entire  d'Anguilhem 
family  was  to  pay  a  neighborly  visit  to  Beuzerie.  The 
visit  was  to  pass  off  like  any  ordinary  visit,  having  no 
special  significance,  since  the  viscount,  full  of  prudence 
as  he  was,  did  not  wish  his  new  plans  to  be  suspected. 
Then,  on  the  day  following  his  visit,  or  on  the  second 
day  after  it,  Roger  would  leave  for  Paris,  where  he  would 
personally    superintend   the   lawsuit,    on    the    issue  of 

9 


130  SYLVANDIRE. 

which  depended  the  viscount's  final  consent.  That  plan 
presented  tlie  double  advantage  of  placing  matters  in  the 
hands  of  the  one  most  interested  in  tlieir  termination, 
and  of  keeping  lioger  at  a  distance  from  Constance  for 
a  year  at  least,  for  in  those  days  the  shortest  lawsuits 
were  very  long.  Meanwhile  Constance  would  return  to 
the  convent  while  she  awaited  her  sixteenth  year,  and 
Roger  his  nineteenth.  It  was  the  age  de  rigueur  for 
country  marriages. 

All  this  contained  Loth  good  and  ill  for  Roger.  He 
would  have  preferred  to  marry  first  and  go  afterwards. 
It  seemed  to  him  quite  as  logical  and  far  more  tolerable; 
and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  in  the  world  that 
the  baron  brought  him  to  understand  tliat  the  thing  was 
impossible,  since  his  marriage  was  to  depend  on  his 
gaining  the  lawsuit.  The  agreement  was,  however,  so 
clear  and  so  squarely  put,  that  the  chevalier  was  forced 
to  yield.  Roger  had  therefore  about  decided  to  lend 
himself  to  this  new  scheme,  when,  at  half  a  league  from 
Anguilhem,  they  met  the  baroness,  who,  in  company 
with  the  abbe,  had  in  turn  come  to  meet  her  husband 
and  her  son. 

And  again  the  plan  decided  upon  at  the  viscount's  was 
set  forth  by  the  baron,  and,  to  Roger's  great  despair,  it 
met  with  general  approval.  The  poor  chevalier  was 
thereupon  constrained  to  surrender.  It  was  settled 
therefore  that  they  should  the  next  day  call  on  the 
Beuzeries,  and,  as  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  that  the 
chevalier  should  set  out  for  Paris  in  three  days. 

Yet  we  must  say  that  Roger  was  unjust  to  Provi- 
dence. After  having  had  Constance  positively  refused  to 
him,  after  believing  her  dead,  and  wishing  to  turn 
Jesuit,  he  had  recovered  her  again  as  faithful  as  ever, 
and,   fortune    and   happiness  in  all  probability  coming 


THE  chevalier's  MARRIAGE  NEARLY  ARRANGED.     131 

together,  he  had  but  to  wait  a  longer  or  shorter  time  to 
become  at  once  a  rich  nobleman  and  a  happy  hnsljand. 
In  this  twofold  reflection  there  was  matter  for  real 
consolation;  and  Eoger,  weighing  it  in  the  balance  of 
common  sense,  began  to  view  the  future  in  a  rosier 
liglit  than  he  had  at  the  baron's  first  words,  grad- 
ually losing  sight  of  the  departure  in  thinking  of  the 
return. 

Then,  let  us  admit,  the  word  Paris  has  at  all  periods 
had  a  magic  ring  for  provincial  ears.  Paris  is  the  goal 
toward  which  all  young  and  vivacious  temperaments 
strive.  For  the  libertine,  Paris  is  pleasure;  for  the 
ambitious,  Paris  is  fame;  for  the  speculator,  Paris  is 
fortune.  Oftentimes  had  the  word  Paris  been  spoken 
in  Roger's  presence,  but  Eoger  had  never  heeded  it;  for 
never  had  he  supposed  that  such  an  event  could  arise  in 
his  life  as  that  he  should  have  occasion  to  journey  to 
Paris.  But  suddenly  the  unlooked-for  event  was  at 
hand.  The  word  Paris  went  ringing  through  his  ears 
to  an  accompaniment  of  the  chinking  of  crowns,  a  kind 
of  music  that  is  always  agreeable,  even  to  the  man  that 
is  least  concerned.  In  short,  that  same  evening,  upon 
going  to  bed,  Roger  confessed  to  himself  that,  since  he 
was  absolutely  forced  to  be  separated  from  Constance  for 
a  certain  lapse  of  time,  it  was  better  that  the  time  should 
be  spent  in  Paris  rather  than  elsewhere. 

On  the  next  day  the  baron  and  Roger  donned  their 
best  attire ,  while  the  baroness  put  on  the  most  beautiful 
of  her  six  gowns.  Then,  at  nine  o'clock,  all  three  got 
into  the  cariole  and  set  off  for  Beuzerie. 

The  visit  passed  off  as  had  beforehand  been  planned 
by  the  baron  and  the  viscount,  that  is  to  say,  according 
to  the  rigid  rules  of  an  almost  royal  etiquette.  There 
was  no  mention  of  what  had  taken  place  between  the  two 


132  SYLVANDIRE. 

young  people.  Roger  and  Constance  bowed  as  if  they 
Avero  for  the  first  time  hoing  introduced  to  each  other. 
The  baron  formally  acquainted  jSIon.sieur  and  Madame 
do  IJcuzerio  of  the  death  of  IMonsicur  de  Bouzenois, 
chevalier  by  grace  of  the  king  and  captain  of  one  of  his 
frigates,  received  the  condolences  of  the  viscount  and  tlie 
viscountess,  and  annoiuieed  that,  the  succession  having 
given  rise  to  a  great  lawsuit,  his  son,  the  clievalier,  was 
about  to  leave  for  Paris  the  next  day  in  order  to  attend 
to  it.  The  viscount  and  the  viscountess  then  wished 
the  chevalier  complete  success  in  his  undertaking,  laying 
great  stress  on  the  pleasure  they  would  personally  take 
in  his  prosperity.  Then  they  in  turn  let  it  incidentally 
be  known  that  their  daughter,  being  still  too  young 
to  think  of  any  establishment,  would  return  to  her  con- 
vent at  Chinon,  Avhcre  she  would  remain  until  it  was 
time  for  her  to  marry. 

These  official  communications  having  been  exchanged, 
the  baron,  the  baroness,  and  the  chevalier  arose.  Then, 
gravely  bowing,  they  took  leave  of  the  viscount  and  the 
viscountess,  entered  the  cariole,  and  went  back  to 
Anguilhem. 

That  evening  and  the  following  day  were  spent  in 
preparations  for  the  chevalier's  departure.  In  the  even- 
ing, the  baron  solemnly  desired  Roger  to  ascend  to  his 
room.  Roger  understood  that  he  was  about  to  receive 
the  paternal  instructions,  and  he  respectfully  presented 
himself  before  the  baron,  who  received  him  standing; 
as  for  the  baroness,  she  was  seated,  and  it  was  apparent 
that  she  had  already  wept  much,  and  that  she  was 
obliged  to  summon  all  her  self-control  to  keep  from 
weeping  still. 

The  chevalier  came  slowly  forward,  and  when  within 
a  few  steps  of  his  father,  he  bent  his  head. 


THE  chevalier's  MAKRIAGE   NEARLY  ARRANGED.    133 

"My  son,"  said  the  baron,  "you  are  about  to  enter 
what  is  to  you  a  new  and  an  unknown  world.  Above 
all  things  guard  your  honor.  A  gentleman's  honor  is 
like  a  woman's  reputation.  Once  tarnished,  it  can  never 
be  cleared.  Above  all,  then,  I  repeat,  watch  over  your 
honor. 

"  You  will  form  the  acquaintance  of  young  men,  I 
will  not  say  nobler  than  yourself,  —  any  gentleman  able 
to  prove  his  nobility  is  the  equal  of  any  other  gentle- 
man,—  but  of  young  men  more  favored  than  yovi.  In 
their  company,  you  will  find  gambling  much  in  vogue. 
Play  only  when  you  cannot  do  otherwise.  You  are 
neither  rich  enough  to  be  able  to  lose,  nor  poor  enough 
to  desire  to  win.  In  any  case,  if  you  have  the  misfor- 
tune to  play  and  lose,  sell  even  your  last  shirt  to  pay 
your  debt.  Every  debt  is  sacred,  but  a  gaming  debt  is 
doubly  so. 

"We  have  concluded,  the  baroness  and  I,  that  one 
hundred  louis  will  be  sufficient  for  all  your  expenses 
during  the  year.  Here,  then,  is  the  first  half  of  that 
sum.  The  pieces  are  old,  for  they  are  our  savings  of 
fifteen  years.  Young  and  active  as  you  are,  you  will 
appear  at  the  court  of  law;  you  will  bow  before  judges, 
you  will  seek  powerful  protection,  and  you  will  succeed, 
I  hope.     Fortune  favors  the  young. 

"  Every  week  you  will  receive  from  us  a  detailed 
letter,  which  every  week  you  will  answer  with  as  exact 
details.  So  that,  if  we  gain  our  suit,  you  yourself  will 
have  been  the  builder  of  your  own  fortune.  Then,  the 
lawsuit  won,  if  you  marry  Constance,  of  which  there 
can  be  no  doubt,  and  if  the  marriage  makes  your  happi- 
ness, you  will  owe  your  good  fortune  to  no  one  but 
yourself,  which,  in  this  world,  is  indeed  something. 

"  You  will  travel  with   Christopher.     He  is  a  good 


134  SYLYANDIKE. 

animal,  hard  to  tire,  well  appearing,  and  ho  would  bo 
better  still  if  you  had  not  overridden  him  at  times.  He 
was  shod  yesterday.  When  passing  through  Saint 
Aiguan,  have  his  mane  and  tail  fashionably  clipped. 
His  trappings  are  neat,  his  saddle  is  excellent.  You 
will  iind  my  travelling  pistols  in  the  holsters. 

"Now,  my  son,  you  have  sometimes  given  us  pain. 
We  forgive  you,  your  mother  and  I.  Fur  my  part,  I 
have  caused  you  much  in  the  matter  of  that  death  story. 
I  do  not  know  whether  I  was  justiiied  in  causing  you 
that  suffering.  I  think  not,  for  it  was  a  lie,  and,  even 
with  good  intention,  a  lie  is  always  a  lie.  1  ask  God's 
pardon  for  it." 

"  0  father!  father!  "  cried  Koger,  unable  to  restrain 
his  tears. 

"  I  did  not  say  that  to  cause  you  sorrow,  Eoger," 
resumed  the  baron,  mistaking  the  sentiment  that  had 
wrested  this  exclamation  from  his  son.  "  You  have  a 
good  heart  and  a  brave  one,  but  your  head  is  bad.  Dis- 
trust yourself,  therefore,  even  more  than  others.  It  is 
the  last  advice  of  your  father  who  loves  you.  And 
now,"  continued  the  baron,  himself  deeply  moved, 
"receive  our  blessing." 

Eoger  fell  on  his  knees,  and,  with  a  gesture  full  of 
tenderness  and  paternal  dignity,  the  baron  extended 
his  hands,  and,  with  eyes  lifted  toward  heaven,  laid 
them  for  an  instant  on  his  son's  head.  Kising,  Roger 
cast  himself  into  the  arms  of  his  mother. 

"  Dear  child,"  said  the  baroness,  "go  to  your  room, 
for  I  feel  that  you  too  have  occasion  for  tears.  For  the 
rest,  be  reassured,  as  I  shall  write  postscripts  to  your 
father's  letters." 

Roger  again  kissed  his  mother,  who,  without  his  need- 
ing to  speak,  had  responded  so  quickly  to  the  inmost 


THE  chevalier's  MAERIAGE  NEARLY  ARRANGED.  135 

thought  of  his  heart.  Then,  after  kissing  the  hand  that 
his  father  extended  to  him,  he  withdrew  to  his  room  and 
wept,  in  fact,  a  good  part  of  the  night. 

When  day  came  he  dressed  himself  for  his  journey. 
The  Baron  d'Anguilhem  had  already  risen  and  seen  that 
everything  was  in  readiness.  Christopher  was  saddled 
and  bridled  and  had  a  suitably  filled  portmanteau  on 
behind.  With  deep  emotion,  the  chevalier  observed 
that  the  baron's  eyes  were  almost  as  red  as  his  own. 

Breakfast  was  served,  but  no  one  touched  it.  Every 
one  was  weeping  or  gulping  down  his  grief.  The  baron 
was  sensible  that  the  sooner  an  end  was  put  to  a  situa- 
tion so  melancholy  for  all,  the  better  it  woiald  be.  On 
rising  from  the  table,  Eoger  approached  his  tutor  and 
asked  his  forgiveness  for  all  the  vexation  he  had  caused 
him.  The  poor  abbe,  wholly  selfish  in  the  ordinary 
occurrences  of  life,  in  tones  of  deep  emotion  pardoned 
the  thousand  and  one  little  peccadilloes  committed  by 
his  pupil. 

Eoger  went  forth,  giving  his  mother  his  arm  and  his 
father  his  hand.  At  the  doorway  he  found  the  house 
servants  weeping  bitterly,  for  every  one  at  Anguilhem 
worshipped  Roger.  He  kissed  them  all,  as  if  they 
were  friends,  and  they  Avept  the  more. 

Castor  yelped  aloud  and  bounded  the  length  of  his 
chain.  One  would  have  said  the  poor  animal  under- 
stood that  his  master  was  leaving  home  for  a  long  time. 
His  master  went  to  him,  and  Castor  stood  up  with  his 
paws  against  his  breast  and  kissed  him  after  his  own 
fashion. 

The  baron  and  the  baroness  accompanied  their  son 
almost  a  quarter  of  a  league;  and  then,  as  they  must 
stop  somewhere,  the  baron  stopped  abruptly.  This 
time,  being  no  longer  under  the  solemn  restraint  of  his 


136  SYLVANDIUE. 

futlier's  blessing,  Roger  cast  himself  into  the  baron's 
arms. 

Then  came  tlio  poor  mf)ther's  turn.  The  baroness 
could  not  part  with  her  child.  Her  poor  heart  was  rent 
with  sobs,  and  in  the  deptlis  of  her  soul  she  cursed  the 
unlucky  inheritance  that  was  tearing  away  her  child. 
The  abbe  was  gazing  after  them  from  the  window  of  the 
tower  and  waving  his  handkerchief. 

At  last  the  baron  took  his  son  by  the  hand,  and, 
conducting  him  to  his  horse,  he  said, — 

"  Let  us  part  bravely,  my  son.  E.eniem1)er  that  you 
are  eighteen  years  old,  and  that,  consequently,  you  are 
a  man." 

Roger  mounted  Christopher,  who,  Avith  drooping  head 
and  tail,  seemed  to  partake  of  the  general  depression; 
but  the  mother  once  more  ran  toward  her  son  with  out- 
stretched hands,  which  he  covered  with  kisses.  At  last 
the  baron  tore  his  wife  away  from  those  endless  em- 
braces, and,  with  all  the  fortitude  he  could  muster,  said 
to  his  son,  — 

"  Spur  on,  monsieur,  I  command  you." 

Roger  obeyed  and  was  off.  At  a  hundred  paces',  how- 
ever, he  looked  back  to  see  his  mother  once  more.  Then, 
when  he  saw  her  lying  so  helpless  and  weeping  in  the 
baron's  arms,  he  went  back,  again  kissed  her,  again 
pressed  his  father's  hand,  again  galloped  away,  and  five 
minutes  later  he  had  disappeared  behind  a  clump  of 
trees. 

Then  in  his  poor  heart  Roger  felt  that  there  remained 
still  other  adieux  to  be  said.  He  would  not,  he  could 
not,  go  away  without  seeing  Constance  once  more. 
The  day  on  which  he  was  to  leave  had  been  mentioned 
before  Constance,  and  he  hoped  she  had  understood  that, 
although  it  would  take  him  slightly  out  of  his  way ,  he 


THE  chevalier's  MARRIAGE  NEARLY  ARRANGED.  137 

would  pass  Beuzerie.  He  therefore  urged  Christopher 
on,  and  soon,  rising  beyond  the  warren,  he  saw  the 
weather-vanes  of  the  chateau. 

Roger  continued  to  advance,  hut  all  the  while  he  kept 
glancing  right  and  left  with  a  remnant  of  timidity  in 
the  depths  of  his  heart  due  to  the  former  interdiction  of 
the  viscount  and  the  viscountess.  At  a  turn  of  the  road, 
through  the  trees,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  white  dress. 
He  spurred  on.  It  was  Constance,  who,  sitting  on  the 
moss  with  a  hook  in  her  hand,  was  pretending  to  read. 

In  an  instant  Eoger  was  beside  her,  and,  springing 
down  from  Christopher,  he  dropped  upon  his  knees. 

"Ah!  here  you  are,  Roger!"  cried  the  young  girl, 
"  I  expected  you. " 

"  And  I,  Constance,"  said  Roger,  "  vras  sure  of  finding 

you." 

"  You  are  going  then  ?  " 

"  I  must  go.     You  know  our  happiness  is  at  stake." 

"  Yes,  Roger,  yes, "  said  the  young  girl ;  "  my  mother 
has  told  me  all.  Our  marriage  is  set  for  your  return. 
You  are  to  be  rich,  it  seems.  How  fortunate  I  am! 
I  shall  owe  you  everything." 

"  Oh!  you  are  an  angel,  Constance,"  cried  Roger.  "  I 
too  can  hardly  believe  in  my  future  happiness,  and  I 
am  still  afraid  lest  you  escape  me." 

"  It  is  you,  rather,  whom  I  may  never  see  again,  you 
who  are  going  to  Paris,  and  who  will  forget  me  in  that 
great  city." 

"  I  forget  you,  Constance  ?  Oh !  never,  never.  If  I 
have  no  more  to  fear  on  your  part  than  you  have  to  fear 
on  mine,  I  shall  indeed  be  happy." 

"  And  what  have  you  to  fear  about  me  ?  " 

"  What  have  I  to  fear,  Constance  1  I  am  afraid  of 
losing    my   lawsuit,   and  that  the    viscount   will    then 


138  SYLVANDIRE. 

withhold  his  consent  and  marry  you  to  the  Marquis  de 
Croisoy." 

"  I  will  never  marry  any  one  hut  you,  Roger,"  replied 
Constance;  "and  if  1  am  not  to  ho  yours  I  shall  he  no 
cue's." 

"  Swear,  tlien,  that  you  will  marry  only  when  I  my- 
self release  you  from  your  oath." 

"  I  swear  it. " 

"  That  you  will  helieve  nothing  that  is  said  to  you 
ahout  mo  unless  you  have  it  from  my  own  mouth  or  see 
it  written  hy  my  own  hand. " 

"I  swear  it,"  repeated  Constance. 

"  And  I,"  said  Koger,  "  swear  in  turn  —  " 

But  Roger  had  not  time  to  finish.  At  that  instant  a 
bullet  whizzed  past,  harely  ten  feet  distant  from  the 
young  people,  and  the  viscount  was  heard  calling  to 
his  dogs. 

"  My  father !  "  cried  Constance  in  terror ;  "  oh ,  go ! 
go!" 

Roger  pressed  his  lips  to  those  of  the  pale  and  trem- 
bling girl,  murmured  the  word  adieu,  and  springing 
upon  Christopher,  was  off  at  full  speed.  After  riding 
a  short  distance  he  turned  his  head.  Constance  had 
disappeared. 

It  then  occurred  to  him  that  Constance  was  the  only 
one  bound,  and  that  in  exchange  for  the  double  oath 
made  by  her,  he  had  not  had  time  to  promise  her  any- 
thing. However,  as  Roger  was  a  man  with  a  conscience, 
under  his  breath  he  swore  to  himself  the  oath  that  he 
ought  to  have  sworn  aloud. 

Poor  Roger !  poor  Constance ! 

Perhaps,  thanks  to  this  imprudent  exclamation  that 
has  just  escaped  us,  our  readers  count  upon  being  able 
to  guess   beforehand  what   sad   incidents   threaten   the 


THE  CIIEVALIEK'S   MARRIAGE  NEARLY  ARRANGED.    139 

future  loves  of  our  two  young  people;  but,  at  the  risk 
of  wounding  their  self-esteem  with  respect  to  the  pene- 
tration of  which  they  believed  themselves  possessed,  we 
assure  them  that,  whatever  their  suppositions,  they  can 
bear  no  relation  to  the  strange  events  which  remain  for 
us  to  tell. 


1-40  SYLVANDIRE. 


X. 


now  THE   CHEVALIER  d'anGUILHEM   MADE  HIS   ENTRY 
INTO    SOCIETY. 

It  took  eleven  days  for  tlie  chevalier's  journey  from 
Anguilhom  to  Paris.  While  passing  through  Saint 
Aignan  ho  had,  in  accordance  witli  his  father's  sugges- 
tion, had  Christopher  groomed  and  rejuvenated  hy  the 
first  veterinary  of  the  place.  At  Orleans  he  had  pur- 
chased a  great  coat  and  renewed  the  lace  of  his  hat. 
At  Versailles  he  had  longed  to  stop  and  visit  the  court, 
but  on  comparing  his  own  state  with  that  of  tlie  sei- 
gneurs whom  he  met,  he  had  been  abashed  by  the  con- 
trast, and  had  continued  his  way,  and  had  thus  reached 
Paris  with  no  stops  other  than  for  eating,  sleeping,  and 
resting  Christopher,  all  which,  as  we  have  said,  did  not 
prevent  his  consuming  eleven  days  on  the  road. 

The  chevalier  arrived  at  Paris  by  way  of  Chaillot. 
This  entrance  to  the  capital  was  far  from  being  at  that 
time  what  it  is  to-day,  hence  Roger  was  not  too  greatly 
impressed  by  what  he  saw,  and  he  maintained,  with 
regard  to  the  great  city,  a  respectable  degree  of  dignity. 
Yet  he  drew  rein  to  admire  the  stately  prison  which 
arose  below  the  convent  of  the  Filles-Sainte-Marie,  and 
which  he  at  first  took  for  a  palace ;  then  he  followed 
the  Quai  de  la  Savounerie  and  entered  the  Cours-la- 
Keine.  Here,  it  must  be  admitted,  his  astonishment 
increased.  The  Louvre  was  in  front  of  him.  The 
Invalides,  with  its  resplendent  dome,  was  at  his  right. 
Then,  as  it  was  a  fine  summer  day,  a  throng  of  carriages 


THE    chevalier's    ENTEY   INTO   SOCIETY.        141 

filled  with  the  handsomest  seigneurs  and  the  most  ele- 
gant dames  of  the  time  coursed  the  thoroughfare  at  his 
left.  Soon  he  found  himself  in  the  middle  of  a 
marble-j^ard,  a  vast,  roofless  atelier  where  Louis  XIV. 
had  the  statues  hewn  with  which  he  made  France  bristle, 
and  which,  extending  along  the  Hue  de  la  Bonne-Morue, 
covered  the  very  spot  to-day  occupied  by  the  Place  de  la 
Concorde.  God  rest  the  souls  of  those  who  have  substi- 
tuted stone  and  iron  for  the  marble  and  bronze  with 
which  it  was  filled  at  that  epoch! 

On  arriving  at  this  marble-yard,  which  obstructed  his 
course,  the  chevalier  was  embarrassed  to  know  whether 
he  should  turn  to  the  right  or  the  left.  He  questioned 
a  workman. 

"Monsieur,"  answered  the  latter,  "although  your 
horse  looks  like  a  good  strong  animal,  he  seems  thor- 
oughly tired  out.  Don't  take  the  quay,  then,  for  the 
pavement  is  very  bad.  Go  by  the  Porte  Saint-Honore. 
Leave  at  your  left  the  Pilles  de  la  Conception  and  the 
Hotel  de  Luxembourg;  then  you  will  come  to  the  Place 
Louis-le-Grand ;  you  will  readily  recognize  it.  It  is  a 
large  square  with  a  statue  of  the  king  on  horseback. 
It  is  a  good  quarter  in  which  to  choose  a  hotel." 

The  chevalier  followed  the  route  and  the  advice. 
He  found  the  Place  Louis-le-Grand  at  the  point  indi- 
cated; but,  not  daring  to  venture  upon  staying  in  so  fine 
a  quarter,  he  kept  on  his  course  a  little  distance  beyond, 
and,  finding  a  hotel  of  sufficiently  modest  appearance  to 
seem  in  keeping  with  the  state  of  his  fortunes,  he  halted. 
Its  sign  was  "  The  Golden  Harrow." 

With  an  air  quite  assured  for  a  provincial,  the  che- 
valier cleared  the  grand  entrance,  and,  being  fatigued,  he 
abandoned  Christopher  to  the  care  of  a  groom,  ascended 
to  a  small  room  on  the  fifth  floor,  which  was  assigned  to 


142  SYLVANDIRE. 

him  from  liis  appearance,  went  to  bed,  went  to  sleep, 
and  awoke  only  on  the  morrow. 

The  morrow  come,  his  first  thought  was  to  go  and 
present  to  a  certain  Marquis  do  Crette  a  very  strong 
letter  of  introduction  wliich  his  father  had  received  from 
Monsieur  d'Orquinon  of  a  neighboring  country-seat. 
But,  as  he  stood  at  tlio  Avindow,  the  chevalier  remarked 
so  great  a  difference  between  his  own  toilet  and  those  of 
the  people  who  passed  on  horseback  and  in  carriages  that 
he  blushed  for  his  own  costume,  notwithstanding  that 
he  had  always  thought  it  very  gallant  in  the  country. 
He  therefore  learned  where  he  could  find  a  dealer  in 
second-hand  clothing,  whither  he  immediately  repaired, 
and  where  he  bought  a  coat  that  was  almost  new,  a  vest 
still  presentable,  a  pair  of  clocked  stockings,  and  a"sword. 
Thus  transformed,  the  chevalier,  thanks  to  his  excel- 
lent personal  appearance,  was  presentable  even  in  Paris, 
notwithstanding  that  his  sky-blue  coat  bore  a  knot  of 
apple-green  ribbon  on  the  shoulder,  a  union  of  colors 
that  might  seem  somewhat  hazardous,  but  Avhich  was 
undoubtedly  an  amorous  fancy  of  its  former  proprietor. 
When  he  was  arrayed  in  his  new  costume  the  chevalier 
thought  he  had  better  study  the  effect  of  his  brisk  attire 
upon  less  noble  material  than  the  marquis  and  the  society 
that  our  debutant  must  meet  at  his  house,  and  in  order 
to  experiment  in  animd  v'di,  Roger  repaired  to  the 
house  of  Maitre  Coquenard,  his  father's  attorney,  Rue 
du  Mouton,  near  the  Place  de  Greve. 

Roger,  as  we  have  said,  was  a  handsome  fellow,  and 
although  from  the  province,  his  bearing  was  that  of  a 
gentleman.  The  country  tan  would  without  doubt  be 
recognized  upon  his  rounded  face  and  brawny  hands; 
but  he  had  a  well-shaped  leg,  and  from  time  to  time  his 
eye  sparkled  through  his  timidity.     Yet  his  sword  in- 


I 


THE   chevalier's   ENTEY  INTO   SOCIETY.        143 

convenienced  him  sorely  by  beating  the  calves  of  his 
legs,  for  at  Anguilheni  he  had  not  been  in  the  habit 
of  wearing  a  sword.  The  perpetual  slapping  caused  him 
annoyance.  Nor  did  he  know,  either,  that  he  should 
require  clowns  to  give  way  while  he  himself  should  yield 
the  pavement  to  his  superiors.  Hence  he  turned  out  for 
a  chair-porter,  and  jostled  a  man  of  quality;  but  his 
look  of  surprise  saved  him  from  the  displeasure  of  the 
latter,  while  his  athletic  figure  spared  him  the  raillery 
of  the  former.  In  fact,  as  we  have  said,  the  chevalier 
stood  five  feet  and  seven  or  eight  inches  in  height,  and 
was  of  conformable  build,  a  size  which,  in  every  land  on 
earth,  always  inspires  a  degree  of  respect. 

Maitre  Coquenard  received  Roger  very  graciously. 
And  in  turn  Roger,  a  gentleman  never  standing  on  cere- 
mony, accepted  the  invitation  extended  him  to  share 
a  stewed  hare  of  most  delicious  aspect,  and  a  hot  pate  of 
most  savory  odor.  They  took  places  at  the  table  without 
further  ceremony,  and  both  began  to  feast  in  excellent 
style,  and  then  they  entered  upon  business  matters.  In 
order  to  deaden  as  much  as  possible  the  force  of  the  blow 
that  he  was  about  to  deal  him,  Maitre  Coquenard  em- 
ployed many  delicate  circumlocutions  to  inform  Roger 
that  the  suit  at  law  for  the  succession,  which  had  brought 
him  to  Paris,  was  of  all  things  the  most  difficult  and  the 
least  certain;  that,  in  accepting  the  right  to  inherit,  the 
Baron  d'Anguilhem  was  pledged  by  the  very  act  of  that 
acceptance  in  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  livres  charged 
to  the  account  of  the  dead  man's  debts. 

Roger  was  appalled  at  this  preliminary  statement. 

But  this  was  not  all.  Maitre  Coquenard  further  ex- 
plained that  the  initial  expenses  of  their  application 
during  the  last  eight  days  already  amounted  to  nine 
hundred  livres. 


144  SYLVANDIRE. 

This  time  Rogpr  turned  pale,  and  lost  his  appetite, 
for  under  all  this,  aside  from  the  money  lost,  lay  the 
contingency  of  his  marrying  or  not  marrying  Constance; 
and  we  must  say  to  the  credit  of  our  hero  tliat,  although 
twelve  days  had  passed  since  he  had  left  Mademoi sells 
de  IJeuzerie,  and  he  had  since  then  seen  a  goodly  stretch 
of  country,  and  on  the  day  before  had  gained  his  first 
taste  of  the  capital,  the  maiden's  image  was  as  present 
to  his  memory  as  at  the  moment  of  his  leavetaking. 

As  for  the  effect  produced  on  the  chevalier's  appetite, 
let  us  add  that  the  dinner  was  approaching  an  end  when 
he  learned  this  news. 

I'rovided  with  this  lugubrious  intelligence,  Roger  re- 
entered The  Golden  Harrow  with  a  step  much  less 
assured  than  that  with  which  he  had  gone  forth. 

To  fulfil  the  promise  made  to  his  father,  the  chevalier 
began  a  letter  to  him  in  which  he  announced  his  fortu- 
nate arrival  in  Paris,  his  interview  with  Monsieur 
Coquenard,  and  the  unpleasant  news  that  he  had  gath- 
ered at  the  worthy  solicitor's.  He  terminated  his  letter 
by  saying  that  he  was  at  that  moment  setting  out  to 
make  use  of  Monsieur  d'Orquinon's  letter  to  tlie  Marquis 
de  Crette. 

In  fact,  his  letter  written  and  confided  to  the  post, 
the  chevalier  cast  a  more  critical  glance  at  his  toilet, 
changed  his  cravat,  put  on  his  cuffs,  and  set  off,  not 
without  a  beating  heart,  in  the  direction  of  the  residence 
of  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  situated  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint  Germain,  Rue  du  Four,  about  two  hundred  yards 
from  the  Hotel  de  Montmorency. 

The  especial  cause  of  the  chevalier's  quickened  pulse 
was  his  expectation  of  meeting  a  grave  old  man,  severe 
and  formal,  after  the  pattern  of  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie, 
a  style  that  was  naturally  antipathetic.     Then,  behind 


THE   chevalier's    ENTRY   INTO   SOCIETY.        145 

this  grave  old  man,  severe  and  formal,  he  could  see  a 
crotchety  dowager  with  dull  eyes  and  a  shrill  voice, 
and,  attending  this  amiable  old  couple,  a  dozen  insolent 
lackeys.  There  was  hut  one  consolation  for  the  cheva- 
lier in  all  this,  — that  old  men  are  somewhat  provincial 
even  in  Paris. 

But,  on  arriving  at  the  hotel,  quite  contrary  to  what 
he  had  expected,  he  discovered  lialf  a  dozen  blooded 
horses,  caparisoned  in  the  very  latest  fashion,  held  by 
five  or  six  valets  in  different  liveries,  but  all  of  them 
so  brilliant  and  gay  that  one  could  not  but  suppose 
that  both  animals  and  men  belonged  to  young  noble- 
men thoroughly  versed  in  the  fashions  of  the  day; 
and  all  this,  it  must  be  said,  disconcerted  Eoger  far 
more  than  the  picture  of  an  antique  household  which  he 
had  anticipated  finding. 

The  porter  stood  erect  at  the  entrance,  a  three- 
cornered  hat  upon  his  head,  a  broad  baldric  across  his 
shoulder,  and  a  cane  in  his  hand,  warning  off  with 
equally  aristocratic  gesture  both  dogs  and  louts  that 
loitered  with  gaping  jaws  and  mouths  before  the  gate  of 
the  hotel ;  but  when  he  saw  Roger  he  carried  his  hand 
to  his  hat  with  the  instinct  that  tells  a  lackey  that  he 
has  to  do  with  a  gentleman,  and  inquired  in  what  way 
he  could  serve  him.  Roger  replied  that  he  wished  to 
speak  with  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Crette;  whereupon 
the  porter  spoke  to  one  of  the  valets  who  were  holding 
the  horses.  The  latter  made  a  sign  to  a  tall,  ungainly 
fellow,  whose  seams  were  all  covered  with  galloon,  who 
introduced  the  chevalier  into  an  elegant  salon  on  the 
ground-floor  looking  into  the  court  on  one  side  and  into 
tlie  garden  on  the  other. 

An  instant  later  six  young  gentlemen,  all  of  distin- 
guished appearance,  jaunty  and  gay,  descended  the  grand 

10 


146  SYLVANDIRE, 

staircase,  leaping  four  steps  at  a  time.  One  of  tliem 
turned  aside  toward  the  salon ;  the  five  others  scattered 
about  tlie  court,  each  running  to  tlie  liorse  that  was  being 
held  for  him. 

"  Who  asked  for  me  ?  "  cried,  while  still  at  a  distance, 
the  gentleman  who  had  directed  his  course  toward  the 
salon. 

"Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem,"  answered  the 
lackey. 

"  The  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem,"  repeated  the  young 
man,  as  if  searching  his  memory,  "  I  do  not  know  him." 

"That  is  true,  monsieur,"  responded  Roger,  opening 
the  door  himself ;  "  and  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  for 
having  so  ill  chosen  my  time  as  to  arrive  just  as  you  are 
ready  to  go  out;  but  I  pray  you  to  fix  yourself  a  time 
at  which  I  may  have  the  honor  to  return." 

This  was  said  with  a  little  awkwardness,  but  also 
with  an  amount  of  dignity  that  impressed  the  Marquis 
de  Crette. 

"  By  no  means,  monsieur,"  responded  the  marquis, 
"  I  am  quite  at  your  service,  now  as  always.  Will  you, 
therefore,  kindly  tell  me  to  what  I  owe  the  honor  of 
your  visit?  " 

These  words  were  accompanied  by  a  bow  of  exquisite 
politeness. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  answered  the  chevalier,  "I 
present  myself  through  the  kindness  of  Monsieur 
d'Orquinon,  your  friend,  I  believe,  and  I  wish  to  de- 
liver a  letter  from  him." 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  knowing  Monsieur 
d'Orquinon  personally,"  returned  the  marquis;  "but 
he  was,  I  remember,  one  of  my  poor  father's  most  inti- 
mate friends,  of  whom  I  have  heard  him  speak  many 
a  time." 


THE    CHEVALIEE'S    ENTRY   INTO    SOCIETY.        147 

"  All!  "  thought  Roger  to  himself,  "  the  nicarquis  loves 
his  father.     He  will  not  ridicule  me  very  much." 

Then,  while  the  marquis  hroke  the  seal  and  read  his 
letter,  Roger  examined  him  in  turn. 

He  was  a  handsome,  elegant  youth  of  from  twenty-two 
to  twenty-four  years  of  age,  rather  slight,  but  of  perfect 
figure,  and  whose  attire  might  have  served  as  a  model 
of  elegance,  as  his  speech,  his  gestures,  his  bearing 
would  have  served  as  a  model  of  good  manners ;  a  sur- 
vival, indeed,  of  the  old  nobility  with  an  anticipatory 
graft  of  the  new  aristocracy,  so  soon  to  bloom  in  the 
reign  of  the  regent. 

When  he  had  read  the  letter,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
chevalier. 

"  Alas,  monsieur, "  he  said,  "  this  letter  was  addressed 
to  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  my  father,  whom  we  have  had 
the  misfortune  to  lose  during  this  last  year;  but  I  com- 
prehend that  you  had  not  learned  of  it  in  the  country." 

Roger  flushed.  The  phrase,  "in  the  country," 
brought  the  blood  to  his  face. 

"  And  yet,  monsieur,  I  think  we  sent  a  letter  to 
Orquinon;  but  this  letter  which  you  have  done  me  the 
honor  to  bring  proves  that  the  death  of  the  Marquis  de 
Crette  has  not  been  heard  of  down  there." 

Roger  turned  redder  still  than  he  had  on  the  first  occa- 
sion.    "  Down  there  "  sounded  to  him  like  the  antipodes. 

"  No  matter,"  continued  the  marquis,  doubtless  per- 
ceiving the  young  man's  embarrassment,  "  the  son  takes 
the  father's  place  among  the  friends  of  our  family,  and 
as  you  have  kindly  come  to  see  us,  you  are  welcome. 
Pray  count  upon  me,  then,  without  the  least  hesitation." 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  you  really  overwhelm  me.  I 
am  only  a  poor  provincial,  very  ridiculous,  I  feel,  and 
very  tiresome,  perhaps,  for  I  have  never  been  outside  of 


148  SYLVANDIRE. 

Anguilhem;  but,  I  assure  you,  I  know  how  to  be  grate- 
ful for  your  gracious  reception." 

"  But  now  you  overwhelm  mo  in  turn,  monsieur,"  re- 
sponded the  marquis  as  he  saluted  Roger  with  a  cordial- 
ity that  penetrated  his  heart. 

Then,  turning  to  his  friends  who  were  chatting  on  the 
steps,  he  called,  — 

"Come,  messieurs,  if  you  please,  and  let  me  present 
to  you  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d' Anguilhem,  who  is 
introduced  to  me  by  one  of  my  father's  most  faithful 
friends." 

The  young  people  drew  near,  and  at  their  approach 
Roger  saluted  them  with  a  bow  that  was  not  lacking  in 
dignity. 

"  We  are  just  starting  out  for  Saint  Germain,  cheva- 
lier," said  the  marquis;  "are  you  at  leisure  to-day? 
If  so,  and  if  our  society  is  not  too  disagreeable  to  you, 
we  shall  be  delighted  to  have  the  honor  of  yours." 

"  But,  messieurs,  you  seem  to  be  setting  off  on  horse- 
back," observed  Roger. 

"  Yes, I  understand,"  returned  the  marquis,  "and  you 
came  by  coach  or  chaise,  and  so  you  have  no  mount." 

"  I  have  my  own  horse  at  the  hotel ,"  Roger  said  with 
a  smile;  "but,  I  must  confess,  in  all  humility,  that  he 
would  cut  too  sorry  a  figure  beside  yours  for  me  to  risk 
my  poor  Christopher  in  their  company." 

"What!  he  is  outspoken  at  his  own  expense," 
thought  the  marquis;  "why,  the  lad  is  not  so  provin- 
cial as  I  supposed.  Well,"  he  resumed  aloud,  "  we 
can  manage  that.  I  have  a  horse  in  the  stable,  one  that 
we  rejected  because  he  is  pretty  difficult  to  manage. 
You  shall  take  my  horse  and  I  will  mount  Marlborough. 
Besides,  as  you  know,  messieurs,"  added  the  marquis, 
laughing,    "  he   owes   me   revenge.       Marlborough    has 


THE    chevalier's   ENTRY    INTO   SOCIETY.        149 

treated  me  as  his  namesake  was  in  the  liabit  of  treating 
Monsieur  de  Villars.  He  threw  me  the  other  day,  flat 
on  my  back,  as  our  friend  Gueriniere  says." 

"  P)ut,"  timidly  remonstrated  Eoger,  "  do  not  incon- 
venience yourself  for  me.  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

The  marquis  mistook  his  meaning,  and,  approaching 
Roger,  he  asked  in  a  low  tone,  — 
"  You  ride,  do  you  not,  monsieur  1  " 
"A  little.  Monsieur  le  Marquis;  but  you  did  not 
understand  me.  I  have  the  honor  to  suggest  that  you 
mount  your  usual  horse,  and  permit  me,  if  you  will,  to 
ride  Marlborough." 

"Ah!  ah!"  ejaculated  the  marquis,  as  he  gazed  in 
astonishment  at  Roger. 

"  Why  not?  "  said  Roger;  "  for  my  own  part,  I  am  a 
countryman,  messieurs.  I  have  ridden  a  great  deal,  so 
much  that  I  do  not  know  whether  it  is  because  I  under- 
stand horses  or  they  understand  me,  but  my  seat  is  very 
secure.  Therefore,  have  no  concern  about  me,  and  if 
my  society  is  not  less  welcome  than  it  was  a  moment 
ago",  and  you  still  wish  me  for  a  comrade,  why,  have 
Marlborough  saddled. " 

"Faith,  monsieur,  I  will  not  deprive  you  of  the 
honor.  Boisjoli,"  cried  the  marquis  to  one  of  his  men, 
"  saddle  Marlborough !  " 

The  groom  turned  toward  the  stables,  thrusting  out 
his  tongue  with  a  wink  at  his  fellows,  as  if  plainly 
saying,  — 

"  Good!  now  we  shall  have  some  fun." 
"  But,"  said  the  marquis,  "  you  are  in  shoes  and  silk 
hose.       You    must    at    least    have    boots    and    spurs, 
certainly." 

"  I  can  go  to  my  hotel  and  get  them,"  replied  Roger. 
"  Where  are  you  staying  1  " 


150  SYLVANDIRE. 

"Rue  Saint  Honors." 

"  No,  it  is  too  far.  Eameau-d'or,"  cried  the  marquis, 
addressing  another  servant,  "  go  to  my  bootmaker's  and 
have  him  bring  live  or  six  pairs  of  riding-boots; 
quickly !  " 

The  valet  left. 

"Now,  my  dear  chevalier,"  said  the  marquis,  "you 
shall  know  at  least  where  I  am  taking  you.  We  are 
having  a  bachelors'  party  at  Saint  Germain's.  You  see 
that  you  have  come  very  opportunely,  for  I  presume  that 
you  are  not  averse,  on  coming  to  Paris,  to  learning  how 
they  behave  here.  Then,  your  education  perfected  in 
this  respect,  you  will  go  away  carrying  ofif  your  millions, 
—  for  you  should  know,  messieurs,"  continued  the  mar- 
quis, turning  to  his  comrades,  "  that  IMonsieur  d'Anguil- 
hem  comes  to  Paris,  I  am  informed,  to  enter  into  a 
poor  little  inheritance  of  fifteen  hundred  thousand 
livres." 

"  Peste!  "  exclaimed  the  young  men  in  chorus;  "  ac- 
cept our  sincere  congratulations." 

"Take  my  advice,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  said  one 
young  man  with  the  quick  familiarity  that  obtains  among 
people  of  rank,  "cut  that  down  a  figure  or  two  before 
taking  it  away,  and  let  us  show  you  how  to  set 
about  it." 

"Ah!  pardleu !  chevalier,"  cried  the  Marquis  de 
Crette;  "you  may  trust  that  to  d'Herbigny;  he  is  past- 
master  in  that  sort  of  undertaking.  He  has  already 
eaten  up  two  uncles  and  an  aunt." 

"Come,"  said  another,  "who  is  the  worthy  defunct 
that  has  given  up  a  million  and  a  half  %  " 

"  My  cousin,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois,"  said 
Roger. 

"  In  that  case,  my  dear  chevalier,  give  me  your  hand. 


THE   chevalier's   ENTRY   INTO   SOCIETY.        151 

We  mast  be  of  kin  to  each  other,  liy  the  left  hand.  I 
have  succeeded  to  his  hist  mistress." 

"  Is  your  portion  worth  as  much  as  mine  1  "  asked 
Roger,  shaking  his  hand. 

"Come,  come,  not  so  bad!  "  exclaimed  the  Marquis 
de  Crette;  "  what  do  you  say,  Treville?  " 

"  I  say  that  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  will 
give  the  lie  to  the  saying,  'stupid  as  a  millionaire.' 
He  will  be  rich  and  witty:  gaudeant  bene  nati." 

"Amen,"  said  Crette.  "Chevalier,  here  come  your 
boots." 

Roger  accompanied  the  bootmaker  to  a  small  dressing- 
room. 

"  Well,  messieurs,"  said  the  marquis,  looking  after 
him  as  he  disappeared,  "agree  with  me  that  this  lad  is 
not  at  all  bad  for  a  provincial.  He  will  bore  us  much 
less  than  we  might  have  expected  in  the  beginning." 

Five  minutes  later  Roger  emerged  from  the  dressing- 
room,  booted  and  spurred  in  a  way  to  have  made  any 
courser  other  than  Marlborough  tremble.  On  gaining 
the  steps  a  groom  handed  him  a  riding-whip. 

The  young  gentlemen  mounted  their  horses  and 
Boisjoli  led  up  Marlborough. 

He  was  an  admirable  dark-bay,  with  waving  mane, 
fiery  nostrils,  bloodshot  eyes,  and  slender  legs,  whose 
veins  stood  out  and  crossed  like  network.  Roger 
looked  him  over  like  a  connoisseur,  and  understood  that 
he  had  a  worthy  adversary ;  nor  did  he  neglect  any  neces- 
sary precaution.  He  separated  and  gathered  up  the 
reins,  settled  himself  in  the  stirrups,  and  then,  when  he 
found  himself  firm  in  the  saddle,  he  made  a  sign  to 
Boisjoli  to  let  him  go. 

It  was  the  moment  for  which  Marlborough  was 
waiting.     Scarcely  was  he  free  before  he  began  to  jump, 


152  SYLVANDIKE. 

to  rear,  to  shy,  to  execute,  in  sliort,  all  the  mancEuvrcs 
by  whose  aid  he  was  accustomed  to  unseat  his  riders; 
but  this  time  he  liad  met  his  master.  Roger  permitted 
him  for  a  time  to  perform  all  his  capricious  antics,  and 
contented  himself  with  so  accommodating  his  own 
movements  to  them,  that  horse  and  rider  seemed  but  one. 
Then,  when  he  thought  the  time  had  come  for  putting  an 
end  to  all  those  whims,  he  began  to  make  his  knees  felt 
so  effectually  that  Marlborough  understood  that  liis 
affairs  had  reached  a  crisis.  Thereupon,  he  redoubled 
his  efforts;  but  this  time  both  whip  and  spur  played 
their  part  in  such  fashion  that  the  horse  began  to 
whinny  with  pain  and  toss  flakes  of  foanv.  At  last,  after 
ten  minutes  of  desperate  struggle,  Marlborough  recog- 
nized that  he  was  vanquished.  Roger  then  amused 
himself  by  making  him  execute  circles,  as  in  a  train- 
ing school.  Then  he  put  him  through  a  course  of  paces, 
of  curvettings,  and  of  all,  in  short,  that  the  famous 
La  Gueriniere,  the  Franconi  of  the  day,  was  in  the 
habit  of  teaching  to  the  best  broken  horses. 

Our  young  gentlemen  had  at  first  watched  the  proceed- 
ings with  the  greatest  curiosity,  but  later  with  the 
greatest  pleasure.  The  Marquis  de  Crette,  especially, 
•was  very  proud  of  Roger's  triumph;  and,  when  Master 
Marlborough  was  entirely  quieted,  he  advanced  to  con- 
gratulate the  chevalier,  upon  which  the  eulogies  of  the 
other  young  people  mingled  in  chorus. 

They  started  for  Saint  Germain.  All  along  the 
way  the  entire  conversation  Avas  of  the  dulness  into 
which  the  rigorous  strictness  of  Madame  de  Maintenon 
and  the  austerities  of  Louis  XIV.  had  plunged  France. 
These  madcaps  invoked  all  the  devils  to  fly  away  with 
the  widow  Scarron,  whom  they  spoke  of  only  as  "  the 
old  woman." 


THE   chevalier's   ENTRY   INTO   SOCIETY.        153 

There  was,  indeed,  already  a  party  that  ridiculed 
Pere  Lachaise  and  his  august  penitents,  —  a  party  that 
was  beginning  to  rally  around  the  Due  d' Orleans  and 
making  opposition  to  the  old  order  of  things;  but  the 
faction  was  very  weak  as  yet,  and  as  it  was  in  great  dis- 
favor at  Versailles,  it  was  rather  hazardous  to  avow 
openly  that  one  belonged  to  it. 

Koger,  having  been  raised  among  the  provincial 
nobility  who  made,  as  we  have  said,  a  systematic  oppo- 
sition, felt  himself  quite  at  home,  and  took  his  part 
quite  acceptably  in  the  refrain  of  maledictions  with 
which  they  reviled  the  favorite.  He  even  enriched  the 
subject  with  ditties  of  Touraine  about  Pere  Lachaise 
and  the  directress  of  Saint  Cyr,  composed  by  some  wits 
near  Loches.  Moreover,  he  thought  he  was  being  very 
audacious,  and  was  only  gay. 

But,  on  the  whole,  what  Eoger  particularly  admired 
was  the  way  in  which  these  gentlemen  trifled  with 
their  frills  and  fingered  their  ruffles,  the  exceeding 
superiority  of  the  cut  of  their  garments,  the  marvellous 
choice  of  stuffs  whose  colors  harmonized  so  pleasantly, 
each  with  another,  that  this  very  harmony  filled  him 
with  dread.  He  did  not  believe  that  he  could  ever 
manage  so  to  pinch  his  waist  and  yet  wear  his  clothes 
with  such  ease.  In  spite  of  this  naive  admiration, 
which  Roger  did  not  even  endeavor  to  conceal,  not  a 
single  scoff  was  aimed  at  him,  for  which  he  was  so 
grateful  that  he  became  humble,  and  sought  every 
opportunity  for  self-abasement,  but  he  could  hardly  open 
his  mouth  in  depreciation  of  his  own  alarming  costume 
and  his  provincial  manners  before  some  one  of  the  young 
people  would  gently  interrupt  him. 

Arrived  at  Saint  Germain,  they  ordered  dinner,  but 
as  an  hour  at  least  must  pass  before  the  dinner  could 


154  SYLVANDIKE. 

Le  ready,  Monsieur  dc  Crctto  proposed  a  game  of 
cards. 

Roger  trembled  on  hearing  that  proposition. 

"Ahis!"  tliought  he,  "these  people  phiy  as  high  as 
three  or  four  pistoles."     Poor  Roger! 

He  cast  a  glance  of  misgiving  at  his  host,  who  quickly 
understood  him. 

"Messieurs,"  said  the  marquis,  "  [jcrhaps  tlie  Cheva- 
lier d'Anguilhem  does  not  know  our  game  very  well. 
Let  us  limit  the  stakes  to  twenty  luuis  to  give  him  time 
to  learn  it  without  ruining  himself." 

At  this  chivalrous  announcement  a  cold  sweat  bathed 
Roger's  face. 

"  Half  of  all  I  possess,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  am  a 
lost  man !  " 

Then,  in  a  single  second  he  understood  all  the  vani- 
ties of  existence.  Anguilhem,  La  Guerite,  La  Pintade, 
the  economies  of  a  half  century  heaped  in  the  paternal 
strong-box,  all  could  be  squandered  in  an  hour  at  cards, 
and  with  people  who  played  a  small  game  besides.  It 
was  not  calculated,  it  will  be  agreed,  to  increase  his 
sense  of  importance. 

Monsieur  de  Crette  divined  that  Roger  was  burning 
with  a  desire  to  speak  with  him  in  private.  He  there- 
fore rose  when  they  began  to  prepare  the  table  for  a 
game,  and  sauntered  indifferently  into  the  next  room. 
Roger  followed  him. 

"  My  faith,  marquis,"  said  Roger  with  the  frankness 
that  had  won  the  liking  of  his  comrades  from  the 
beginning,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  sail  under  false  colors 
among  honest  men.  My  father  is  not  rich.  He  has 
given  me  a  little  money  for  my  journey,  and  I  am 
afraid — " 

"Of  losing?" 


THE   chevalier's   ENTRY   INTO   SOCIETY.        155 

"iSTo,  but  of  losing  too  much." 

"  Nonsense!  get  rid  of  that  notion,  then.  One  of  the 
qualifications  of  a  gentleman  is  to  be  a  good  player." 

"  Yes;  but  to  be  a  good  player  a  man  ought  not  to  lose 
more  than  he  possesses." 

"Why  not?" 

"What,  of  money?" 

"  Money  ?  A  man  always  has  money,  if  not  in  his 
own  pockets,  at  least  in  his  friends'." 

"  Excuse  me,  marquis,  but  I  do  not  like  to  borrow." 

"  You  are  a  child,  chevalier.  Nobody  borrows;  every- 
body plays  en  Vair;  that  is  the  way  we  do.  How 
much  do  you  think  we  have  among  us  all?  A  hundred 
louis,  perhaps;  but  at  the  bottom  of  the  purse  is  the 
word,  chevalier,  and  a  gentleman's  word  is  as  good  as  a 
gold  mine.  And  besides,  when  a  man  is  playing  among 
honorable  men  like  us,  the  good  luck  balances  the  bad. 
We  play  all  the  year  around  among  ourselves.  We  win 
and  we  lose  prodigious  sums,  and  on  the  thirty-first  day 
of  December  the  unluckiest  of  us  is  not  more  than  a 
hundred  pistoles  behind.  Play,  then,  fearlessly,  lose 
cheerfully,  or  I  forewarn  you  that  I  shall  look  black." 

"  I  shall  do  everything  in  my  power  to  keep  in  your 
good  graces,  marquis,"  returned  Roger,  smiling. 

"  Then  come  back  without  farther  delay.  I  hear  the 
gold  jingling." 

The  marquis  and  Eoger  re-entered  the  room ;  the  table 
was  prepared ;  the  game  was  ready.  D' Anguilhem  lost 
his  twenty  louis  in  three  rounds. 

During  that  one  half  hour  all  that  terror  holds  of 
poignant  anguish  gripped  the  chevalier's  heart.  Yet, 
although  his  temples  twitched  a  little,  his  smile  did 
not  fade  for  an  instant.  The  marquis  challenged  him 
to  stake  anew. 


156  SYLVANDIRE. 

Tho  chevalier  drew  twenty  louis  more  from  his  pocket. 

At  tlie  end  of  five  rounds  tho  chevalier  had  won  back 
his  twenty  louis  and  forty  others.  Then  he  began  to 
play  cautiously. 

"  This  excellent  d'Anguilhem  is  a  veritable  monopo- 
list," remarked  the  Marquis  de  Crett^  as  he  shoved  over 
to  the  chevalier  some  fifteen  louis  which  were  his  due, 
and  which  tlie  chevalier  had  just  won  from  him  with  a 
pair-royal  of  knaves.  "  He  comes  to  Paris  to  get  fifteen 
hundred  thousand  livres,  and  wishes  to  carry  olf  our 
money  besides." 

Koger  took  the  hint,  thanked  his  friend  by  a  frank 
smile,  and  began  to  play  as  freely  as  when  he  was  losing. 

But  Roger  was  in  luck.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes 
he  had  three  hundred  louis  stacked  in  front  of  him. 

It  must  be  said  that  if  the  chevalier's  terror  had  been 
profound,  his  joy  was  delirious. 

Dinner  was  announced.  D'Anguilhem  inwardly 
thanked  heaven  for  giving  him  this  chance  to  achieve 
what  is  technically  called  a  Charlemagne.  Crette  saw 
the  expression  of  satisfaction  tliat  passed  over  his  coun- 
tenance, slight  as  it  was. 

"  Chevalier,"  said  the  marquis,  "  you  would  like  us  to 
think  you  very  elated  over  your  winnings,  and  that  is 
modesty  on  your  part;  but  I  know  you.  I  will  wager 
that  you  are  going  to  risk  your  winnings  of  three  hundred 
louis  against  d'Herbigny,  who  has  lost  four  hundred, 
I  think,  on  the  first  twenty-one  that  comes  to  hand." 

As  he  spoke  he  gave  Roger  a  significant  look. 

"  You  are  right,  marquis;  but  as  a  twenty-one,  how- 
ever, does  not  occur  in  every  coup,  I  propose  to  Monsieur 
d'Herbigny  that  we  play  three  hundred  louis,  one 
against  the  other,  on  the  first  round  and  without  looking 
at  our  cards.     We  take  what  we  "et." 


THE   chevalier's   ENTKY   INTO   SOCIETY.        157 

"  Agreed !  "  exclaimed  d'Herbigny. 

The  cards  were  dealt.  No  one  entered  upon  the  game. 
The  two  laid  down  their  cards.  Roger  had  twenty-nine 
and  d'Herbigny  thirty. 

Eoger  reddened  slightly,  but  that  was  all. 

"  Here  are  your  three  hundred  louis,  vicomte,"  he 
said  with  a  laugh. 

"  You  are  a  very  fine  player,  Monsieur  d' Anguilhem," 
responded  d'Herbigny  with  a  bow. 

"  Accept  my  compliments,  chevalier,"  said  the  Comte 
de  Chastellux.     "  You  play  like  a  true  gentleman." 

"  And  mine,"  added  the  Baron  de  Treville. 

"And  ours,"  continued  the  others. 

Crette  took  his  hand,  and  as  he  pressed  it  he  mur- 
mured in  his  ear,  — 

"  Well  done !  A  man  is  known  by  the  way  he  plays 
and  fights.  Keep  on  as  you  have  begun  to-day,  and  in 
three  months  you  will  be  an  accomplished  cavalier," 

"Compliments  enough,"  thought  Roger  as  he  rose. 
"  I  appear  to  have  done  something  very  fine,"  Rutin 
going  from  the  gaming-table  to  the  dinner-table  he 
heaved  a  great  sigh  that  nearly  strangled  him. 

The  dinner  was  of  the  gayest.  The  Marquis  de  Crette 
and  his  set  piqued  themselves  on  their  drinking;  but 
they  were,  in  this  respect,  mere  babes  beside  their  pro- 
vincial convive.  Roger  complained  in  all  seriousness 
that  the  glasses  were  small  and  the  wine  weak. 

"  Zounds !  "  exclaimed  d'Herbigny ;  "  you  play  as  well 
as  you  ride,  and  you  drink  as  well  as  you  play.  Every- 
thing seems  to  be  well  done  at  Anguilhem." 

Roger  was  amazed  at  finding  himself  not  only  equal 
but  even  superior  in  some  things  to  these  marvels  of 
elegance. 

During  the  entire  dinner  the  talk  was  of  hunting  and 


158  SYLVANDIRE. 

duels  and  conquests.  On  the  first  and  last  heads  the 
chevalier  could  relate  a  sufficient  number  of  feats,  al- 
though his  amours  were  not  of  the  same  sort  as  those  of 
his  new  friends.  But  on  the  second  sulyect  he  could 
boast  neither  prowess  nor  triumph.  Never  had  he  been 
engaged  in  even  the  smallest  duel.  Never  had  he  seen 
one.  It  was  humiliating,  and  he  figured  as  a  rather 
sulky  listener. 

The  dessert  was  reached  when  a  second  group  arrived. 
Those  who  comprised  it  Avere  as  noisy  on  their  arrival 
as  were  the  Marquis  de  Crette  and  his  convives  at  the 
end  of  their  dinner. 

"  So  we  fire  to  have  the  Messieurs  de  Kollinski,"  said 
the  JMarquis  de  Crette,  with  an  air  of  vexation  that  did 
not  escape  Koger. 

Roger  leaned  from  the  window  and  saw  four  gentle- 
men, two  of  whom,  superbly  attired  in  foreign  costumes, 
strutted  across  the  threshold  with  great  boisterousness. 

They  were  two  Hungarian  gentlemen  whose  array  was 
so  sumptuous  as  to  amount  to  extravagance.  Their 
luxury  was  insulting  even  in  that  epoch  of  luxury. 

Instantly  a  hush  fell  upon  the  first  comers,  as  if  they 
feared  to  encourage  the  familiarity  of  these  last  arrivals. 

Roger  leaned  toward  the  marquis  and  inquired,  — 

"  Who  are  the  Messieurs  de  Kollinski  ?  " 

"  Two  honorable  Hungarian  noblemen  who  live  here 
after  the  manner  of  their  country,"  responded  the  mar- 
quis, "  beating  landlords,  maltreating  lackeys,  barring 
the  way  of  passers-by,  —  all  which  would  be  delightful  if 
duelling  were  not  prohibited  and  so  stringently  punished. 
They  are  brave  for  that  matter.  No  fault  is  to  be  found 
with  them  in  that  respect." 

Roger  profited  by  the  information. 

The  Messieurs  de  Kollinski  then    entered  the  great 


THE    CIIEVALIEE's   ENTRY    INTO    SOCIETY.        159 

hall  of  the  inn,  and  tlicy  all  courteously  saluted  one 
another.  But  the  first  compliments  were  hardly  ex- 
changed before  the  Marquis  de  Crette  arose,  an  example 
that  was  imitated  by  the  gentlemen  of  his  party,  paid 
the  reckoning,  and  departed,  followed  by  Roger  and  his 
other  companions. 

From  the  foot  of  the  staircase  Roger  heard  the  Mes- 
sieurs de  Kollinski  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter,  and 
the  words  "  apple-green  ribbons  "  struck  his  ear  several 
times.  Now  Roger  wore,  as  we  have  said,  a  knot  of 
apple-green  ribbons  on  his  shoulder.  It  was  an  orna- 
ment in  very  bad  taste,  especially  on  a  sky-blue  coat. 
Roger  was  not  aware  of  it  in  the  morning,  but  he  had 
discerned  it  by  evening.  He  was,  therefore,  enraged  at 
the  laughers,  and  he  began  to  detest  them  from  the 
bottom  of  his  heart.  Roger  felt  that  in  their  eyes  he 
was  ridiculous. 

Monsieur  de  Crette,  for  his  part,  had  not  lost  a  word 
of  their  raillery,  for,  as  he  mounted  his  horse,  he  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  3fon  Dieuf  but  these  Messieurs  de  Kollinski  are 
provokingly  insolent!  " 

Roger  divined  that  the  jest  of  the  Hungarians  had 
been  understood  by  his  comrades.  He  suffered  cruelly, 
but,  having  said  nothing  at  the  moment,  he  was  con- 
strained to  swallow  his  wrath. 

Again  in  Paris,  Roger  affectionately  thanked  the  mar- 
quis for  his  many  kind  favors,  asked  each  gentleman 
present  for  permission  to  call  on  him,  and  accepted 
an  invitation  to  make  one  of  a  tennis-party  on  the 
morrow. 

"  Remove  your  apple-green  knot,"  the  marquis  said  to 
him  in  an  undertone  as  they  separated,  "  and  put  on  one 
of  poppy-color.     It  is  the  fashionable  shade." 


IGO  SYLVANDIRE. 

Eoger  would  liave  prciferred  a  dagger-thrust  to  tliis 
delicate  attention  from  his  new  friend. 

"Decidedly,"  thought  he,  "I  was  insulted,  and  I 
did  not  demand  satisfaction  for  the  insult.  Am  I,  then, 
a  man  of  no  si)irit?  " 


THE  YALUE   OF  FENCING   LESSONS.  161 


XI. 


HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  PROFITED  BY  THE  FENCING 
LESSONS  GIVEN  HIM  BY  THE  BARON  d'aNGUILHEM, 
HIS    FATHER. 

During  the  whole  night,  this  idea  kept  Roger  awake. 
He  looked  at  the  matter  from  a  hundred  standpoints ;  he 
thought  of  a  thousand  arguments  in  his  own  favor ;  but 
the  sum  total  remained  that  he  had  been  jeered  at,  and 
he  had  permitted  it.  The  memory  of  it  spoiled  all  that 
day  before,  so  beautiful  still  to  him.  This  thought, 
combined  with  the  information  given  him  by  Maitre 
Coquenard  concerning  the  state  of  the  lawsuit,  was  not 
calculated  to  conduce  to  a  good  night's  rest;  and  so 
Koger,  after  having  slept  an  hour  or  two,  awoke  in  a  very 
bad  humor. 

However,  as  he  had  on  the  previous  day  learned  the 
value  of  a  good  coat,  before  taking  his  chocolate  he  sent 
for  a  tailor  and  ordered  him  to  have  ready,  by  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  a  complete  costume  made  in  the  best 
taste  that  he  could  command.  At  ten  o'clock  the  tailor 
returned  to  Roger's  apartment  with  a  coat  of  chatoyant 
taffeta,  the  cuffs  embroidered  in  silver,  a  vest  of  violet 
gray  silk,  also  embroidered  in  silver,  and  knee-breeches 
like  the  coat;  the  rest  of  the  toilet  was  completed  by  a 
neck-scarf  of  Mechlin  lace,  embroidered  clocked-hose  and 
new  buckles;  a  sword,  finer  than  the  one  he  wore  the 
day  before,  and  having  a  perfect  edge,  cocked  up  in 
cavalier  fashion  the  left  skirt  of  his  coat. 

11 


162  SYLVANDIRE. 

He  then  frankly  confided  to  tlic  tailor  his  misgivings 
as  to  the  manner  of  creditably  carrying  off  all  those  beau- 
tiful things.  The  latter,  who  was  an  artist,  gave  him 
invaluable  advice.  Roger  wished  to  put  it  into  practice 
on  the  instant;  he  walked  away,  he  turned,  he  came 
back  before  his  instructor,  who  in  the  end  declared  him- 
self perfectly  satisfied  with  the  way  the  chevalier  caressed 
liis  chin  and  thrust  his  hat  under  his  left  arm;  these 
were  the  chief  things.  Roger  paid  the  tailor  and  dis- 
missed him,  already  somewhat  diverted  from  the  dis- 
agreeable thoughts  that  had  engaged  his  mind  during  all 
the  night.  He  set  out,  then,  with  a  light  step  for  the 
Rue  de  Vaugirard  where  the  tennis-court  was  situated. 

Only  a  single  thing  was  lacking  to  the  perfect  gratifi- 
cation of  his  self-esteem,  —  to  be  seen,  thus  dressed,  by 
Constance ;  and  his  regret  was  the  keener  as  he  evidently 
produced  a  great  sensation  upon  all  whom  he  encountered, 
a  sensation  demonstrated  by  their  turning  about  and 
following  him  with  the  eye.  In  fact,  no  one  could  un- 
derstand where  this  handsome  youth  with  such  a  self- 
satisfied  air  could  be  going,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning,   arrayed  as  if  for  a  wedding. 

Roger  arrived  first  at  the  rendezvous;  the  markers 
executed  profound  obeisances,  which  seemed  to  him  to 
augur  well.  It  was  the  first  time  Roger  had  seen  a 
tennis-court ;  he  had  expected  to  find  himself  in  a  Louvre, 
—  he  was  in  a  barn,   or  little  better. 

So  powerful  already  was  caprice  in  the  capital  of  the 
civilized  world  that  the  fact  did  not  prevent  this  tennis- 
court  being  the  most  popular  one  in  Paris. 

Roger  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  which  he 
owed  to  his  great  punctuality,  to  gain  from  the  markers 
some  theoretical  instruction  concerning  the  course  of  the 
game,   and   some  practical  lessons  as  well.     As  he  was 


THE  VALUE  OF  FENCING  LESSONS.     1G3 

possessed  of  a  quick  intelligence,  he  then  and  there  mas- 
tered the  order  of  the  play  and  as  he  had  an  accurate  eye 
and  a  strong  wrist,  he  drove  a  straight  enough  ball  for  a 
beginner. 

In  the  meantime,  Roger's  new  friends  arrived.  The 
chevalier's  stupefaction  was  great;  they  were  in  morning 
breeches  and  dressing-gowns.  Alas  !  to  become  a  Parisian, 
the  poor  chevalier  still  had  much  to  learn. 

The  Marquis  de  Crette  observed  his  surprise. 

"  We  live  in  the  quarter,"  said  he,  "  hence  we  come  in 
like  neighbors." 

"  I,"  said  Eoger,  "  have  some  visits  to  make  on  leaving 
you,   and  I  dressed  beforehand." 

"  You  would  have  done  better  to  have  come  in 
neglige, "  returned  the  marquis ;  "  you  will  find  that  you 
must  go  to  your  hotel  from  here;  this  costume  will 
hinder  you  greatly." 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  play, "  said  Roger,  biting  his  lips. 
"  I  do  not  know  the  game,  and  — " 

"Oh,"  returned  the  marquis,  "we  will  knock  about 
the  balls  a  little  to  put  us  in  breath  and  give  you  an  ink- 
ling of  the  thing,  then  we  will  play  a  regular  game." 

At  that  moment,  a  noise  of  ill-omen  echoed  in  the 
antechamber.  Several  voices  were  heard,  and  among 
them  Roger  thought  he  recognized  the  voice  that  had 
ridiculed  the  apple-green  ribbons  on  the  previous  after- 
noon: he  felt  a  presentiment. 

In  fact,  almost  immediately,  the  Messieurs  de  Kollin- 
ski  entered  with  their  two  companions  of  the  day  before; 
a  cold  perspiration  gathered  upon  Roger's  forehead. 

"  Let  us  make  haste  and  take  our  places, "  said  the 
marquis,  "  or  we  shall  have  a  disfjute  with  these  bullies 
about  who  shall  play  the  game." 

The  marquis  removed  his  dressing-gown,   his  friends 


164  SYLVANDIKE. 

did  the  same;  Roger,  for  his  part,  despoiled  himself  of 
coat,    vest,   and  sword. 

The  game  began. 

Koger  commenced  by  perpetrating  a  few  of  the  blunders 
inseparable  from  apprenticeship  in  a  game  so  difficult, 
and  not  witliout  shouts  of  laughter  from  the  spectators. 
But  his  play  improved,  little  by  little.  As  a  rule,  all 
branches  of  physical  culture  are  related.  Apt  in  matters 
requiring  skill  and  address,  Roger  made  visible  progress. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  strength  of  his  wrist  aroused  the 
admiration  of  his  new  friends;  his  balls  Avhistled  like 
cannon-shot,  and  a  man  certainly  needed  courage  to  be 
a  third  against  him. 

The  young  gentlemen  were  greatly  amused  to  see  the 
display  of  most  unlooked-for  expedients  on  the  part  of 
that  powerful  creature.  Sometimes,  in  order  to  take  a 
ball  far  above  his  head,  Roger  took  such  a  leap  into  the 
air  that  one  would  have  said  a  spring-board  was  under  his 
feet;  sometimes,  to  make  a  hit,  he  would  shoot  forward 
or  dart  backward  with  a  strength  of  limb  and  a  calcu- 
lation of  distance  that  were  amazing  in  a  beginner;  nor  did 
his  friends  withhold  their  eulogies.      Roger  was  exultant. 

The  onlookers  seemed  less  entertained.  The  Messieurs 
de  Kollinski  had  come  to  play,  and  they  discovered  tliat 
the  game  of  the  Marquis  de  Crette  lasted  rather  too  long 
to  suit  their  convenience.  For  that  reason,  by  way  of 
passing  the  time,  and  while  his  brother  sneered  with  his 
usual  impertinence,  Monsieur  de  Kollinski  the  elder 
placed  himself  where  he  could  throw  the  balls  into  the 
pockets  (blouses). 

As  the  transaction  took  place  on  the  Marquis  de 
Crette's  side,  it  was  to  him  that  it  seemed  particularly 
disagreeable. 

Meanwhile,  the  Marquis  de  Crette  became  more  and 


THE  VALUE  OF  FENCING  LESSOXS.      165 

more  annoyed,  and  paid  so  much  less  attention  to  his 
play  that  with  his  increased  annoyance  he  began  to  lose. 

The  ^larquis  de  Crette  was  a  good-natured  player 
when  he  lost  by  his  own  fault  or  by  that  of  people 
whom  he  liked;  but  he  was  quick-tempered  when  he 
lost  through  others,  if  the  others  were  people  whom 
he  disliked.  And  so,  another  ball  being  pocketed  by 
Monsieur  de  Kollinski,  the  Marquis  de  Crette  lost  his 
temper. 

"  Parbleu!  monsieur,"  turning  toward  the  meddler, 
"  you  pocket  my  balls  and  cause  me  to  lose.  That 
probably  amuses  you,  but  for  my  part,  I  fail  to  find  it 
amusing." 

"Very  well,  marquis:  then  I  will  pocket  monsieur's," 
said  the  Hungarian  as  he  passed  to  Koger's  side. 

Roger  cast  a  questioning  glance  at  the  marquis,  to 
which  the  marquis  responded  by  a  significant  look, 

"  You  may,  if  monsieur  permits  it, "  said  the  Marquis 
de  Crette. 

"  Ah  !  but  I  shall  not  permit  it, "  said  Roger,  with  an 
indescribable  beating  of  the  heart,  as  he  took  a  few  steps 
toward  Monsieur  de  Kollinski. 

"  Look  !  "  exclaimed  the  Hungarian,  "  here  is  the  man 
of  the  apple-green  knot.  Why  are  you  not  wearing  your 
apple-green  ribbon,    friend  1  " 

Roger  felt  the  blood  mount  to  his  temples,  and  yet  he 
stood  as  if  nailed  to  the  spot. 

He  tried  to  reply  to  Monsieur  de  Kollinski,  but  his 
tongue  was  paralyzed. 

"  It  is  true  that  monsieur  has  no  longer  his  apple-green 
knot, "  spoke  up  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  "  but  he  has  a 
new  sword." 

The  words  Avere  as  the  spark  that  touches  off  the  keg 
of  powder. 


166  SYLVANDIKE. 

Roger  approached  close  to  Monsieur  tie  Kollinski,  and 
bowing  gravely,  he  added,  — 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  a  new  sword  with  which  I  shall  have 
the  honor  to  run  you  through  tlie  body,  if  that  will  be 
agreeable  to  you." 

All  present  burst  into  a  loud  laugh  on  hearing  Roger's 
unique  challenge.  Monsieur  de  Kollinski  was  about  to 
reply  in  his  usual  noisy  manner,  but  the  Yiconite  d'Her- 
bigny  had  also  approached  him ;  placing  a  finger  on  his 
lips,  he  said,  — 

"Not  in  public,  messieurs,  T  beg;  we  shall  meet 
again." 

The  Hungarians  saluted,  turned,  and  went  to  the  foot 
of  the  hall,  Avhere  they  began  to  laugh  maliciously 
together. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  chevalier?  "  said  the  mar- 
quis in  a  low  tone  to  Roger,  who,  after  the  rush  of  blood 
to  his  face,  had  turned  very  pale ;  "  one  would  say  that 
you  were  ill !  " 

"No,  monsieur;  but  I  am  somewhat  disturbed." 

"  Is  your  disturbance  of  such  a  nature  as  to  keep  you 
from  fighting  if  we  need  a  fourth  1  " 

"  Keep  me  from  fighting,  —  me  ?  "  returned  Roger, 
bearing  in  mind  his  father's  instructions.  "  I  will  fight 
ten  times,  if  necessary,  and  against  ten  men,  if  you  think 
proper;  but  there  is  something  going  on  inside  of  me 
that  is  stronger  than  I  am,  and  I  tremble.  It  is  rage,  I 
think." 

The  marquis  smiled  at  the  simplicity  with  which  Roger 
described  his  sensations. 

"  Do  you  fence  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,  a  little." 

"  Who  is  your  master  ?  " 

"  My  father  taught  me." 


THE  VALUE  OF  FENCING  LESSONS.      167 

"  Dlahle !  then  you  are  not  likely  to  accomplish  any 
great  things." 

"  I  think  I  can  defend  myself. " 

"  If  only  you  could  draw  a  sword  as  well  as  you  ride  !  " 

"  Why,  I  hope  I  am  as  skilful  at  least  at  the  one 
exercise  as  at  the  other." 

"  Fact  1  " 

"  Yes;  but  I  have  fenced  only  with  foils." 

"  And  you  do  not  know  how  you  Avill  fight  when  once 
on  the  ground  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  I  will  fight,  that  is  all,  and  without 
drawing  back  a  step,   I  promise  you." 

"  Ah  !  if  you  promise  that, "  answered  the  marquis,  "  I 
am  tranquil." 

"  I  promise." 

"Very  well!" 

The  marquis  donned  his  dressing-gown,  adjusted  his 
neck-scarf,  and  went  to  find  the  two  brothers  who  were 
sitting  on  the  markers'  bench  with  their  two  friends,  and 
who  arose  at  his  approach. 

The  gentlemen  exchanged  the  usual  civilities.  The 
Messieurs  de  Kollinski  had  grown  perfectly  polite.  It 
was  quite  simple ;  they  were  going  to  fight. 

They  fixed  upon  a  rendezvous  for  four  o'clock,  and 
agreed  to  meet  at  the  rear  of  the  convent  of  the  Filles- 
du-Saint-Sacrement. 

Our  four  young  men  returned  to  the  hotel  of  the 
Marquis  de  Crette. 

"  Faith,  messieurs,  this  is  a  serious  affair, "  said  the 
marquis  throwing  himself  on  a  sofa,  and  by  a  sign 
inviting  his  companions  to  do  likewise. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  demanded  d'Herbigny. 

"  Well !  my  dear  vicomte,  the  Messiei;rs  de  Kollinski 
are  absolutely  determined  to  fight  four  against  four." 


168  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Well,  are  there  not  four  of  us?  "  said  Trdvillc. 

"  Undoubtedly,  baron ;  but  for  the  second  day  that 
■we  have  been  togotlier,  I  should  be  glad  to  keep  the 
chevalier  out  of  tliis  business." 

"  And  why  me,  more  than  another  ?  "  demanded  Roger. 

"Because,  chevalier,  a  first  affair  —  is  a  first  affair." 

"  Ah  ga  !  perhaps  you  Parisians,  then,  have  discovered 
the  way  to  begin  with  a  second, "   returned  Roger. 

"  No,  not  yet,  it  is  true, "  said  Crett^  with  a  laugh. 

"In  that  case,  make  use  of  me,  I  beg,  monsieur," 
replied  the  chevalier;  "if  it  is  a  matter  of  getting  a 
sword-thrust,  why,  the  deuce!   I  am  as  good  as  another." 

"Very  good!"  exclaimed  d'Herbigny.  "That  is  the 
sort  of  talk  I  like." 

"  I  will  answer  for  the  chevalier, "  declared  Treville. 

"  Chevalier,  if  we  get  out  of  this, "  said  Crette,  "  you 
shall  be  my  friend.  But  do  not  deceive  yourself. 
The  Messieurs  de  Kollinski  are  accomplished  duellists; 
they  have  fought  with  rapiers  in  their  country  from  the 
time  of  Charles  IX." 

"  Well,  what  of  that,  marquis  ?  However  terrible  they 
may  be,  we  will  try  to  make  up  their  party," 

"  So  be  it,  then ;  but  you  are  forewarned.  There  is 
still  time  for  you  to  withdraw  honorably,  chevalier; 
and  in  your  stead  we  can  resort  to  Clos-Renaud  who  has 
a  pretty  stroke." 

"I  shall  be  greatly  chagrined,  marquis,  if  you  repeat 
what  you  have  just  said.  I  am  at  your  service  and  that 
of  our  Hungarians. " 

"  Well,  messieurs,  at  four  o'clock,  this  evening, "  said 
Crette.  "  Let  us  make  our  wills,  for  in  all  probability 
we  shall  have  a  warm  time  of  it.  Come  with  me,  Roger, 
and  I  will  give  you  a  good  sword;  what  you  have  there 
is  only  a  hilt," 


THE  VALUE  OF  FENCING  LESSONS.      169 

The  marquis  took  leave  of  his  companions,  and  he  con- 
ducted Roger  to  a  species  of  armory  where  tliere  were 
swords  of  every  magnitude,  with  hilts  adapted  to  differ- 
ent hands. 

Eoger  chose  like  an  expert :  he  took  a  handsome  blade, 
neither  too  long  nor  too  sliort,  not  too  heavy  nor  too 
light,  a  three-edged  carlet  as  sharp  as  a  needle,  which, 
widened  a  little  fourteen  or  fifteen  inches  from  the  hilt 
in  such  a  way  as  to  give  strength  in  parrying. 

The  marquis  keenly  observed  the  chevalier  while  he 
was  making  his  choice. 

"  Come,  come, "  he  said ;  "  I  see  that  you  have  good 
enough  judgment.  Toss  your  sword  into  a  corner, —  it 
is  good  for  nothing,  —  and  put  this  one  in  its  place. 
Excellent !  This  evening,  behind  the  convent  of  the 
Filles-du-Saint-Sacrement,  you  understand?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Wait  for  me ;  I  will  call  for  you  as  I  pass.  Or, 
rather,  on  second  thoughts,  be  here  at  two;  we  will  have 
a  bite  together." 

"  You  overwhelm  me,  marquis." 

"  There,  there,  don't  use  that  word  again;  it  is  not 
current  among  friends,  and  it  smells  of  Loches  six  leagues 
away." 

Once  returned  to  his  hotel  and  shut  within  his  room, 
Roger  gave  way  to  very  lugubrious  reflections.  That 
remark  about  their  wills,  dropped  by  way  of  advice 
by  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  kept  running  through  his 
head. 

"  Parbleu  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  it  would  be  an  odd  thing 
if  I  have  come  from  Loches  to  Paris  just  to  get  myself 
killed." 

With  that,  the  chevalier  rested  his  elbow  on  the  table, 
leaned  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  began  to  think  of  Con- 


170  SYLVANDIKE. 

stance,  of  liis  mother,  of  the  baron,  (jf  the  delights  of  his 
native  province,  so  real,  and  yet  appreciated  only  when 
distant,  whose  reality  was  felt  only  when  wanting ;  then 
he  wrote  a  few  pages  to  Constance,  and  to  his  father  and 
mother,  weeping  quite  openly  as  he  went  on  writing. 

He  wept  so  much  that  he  could  at  last  weep  no  more ; 
and  besides,  there  was  a  magnificent  sky,  the  sun  shot 
across  the  window-bars  a  long  stream  of  light,  in  which 
played  millions  of  motes.  Death  does  not  look  so  ugly  in 
fine  weather ;  it  has  been  remarked  that  many  more  people 
have  been  brave  in  August  than  in  December. 

Koger,  therefore,  tossed  his  head,  took  up  the  marquis' 
sword  and  unsheathed  it ;  it  weighed,  in  his  robust  hand, 
scarcely  more  than  a  foil.  He  drew  at  the  wall,  and 
went  through  a  few  exceedingly  swift  and  vigorous  passes 
in  quarte  and  tierce;  in  short,  he  was  in  the  end  well 
pleased  with  himself,  being  convinced  that  he  had  lost 
none  of  his  skill,  although  he  had  not  touched  a  foil  for 
nearly  eighteen  months. 

By  two  o'clock  he  returned  to  the  hotel  of  the  marquis. 
Crette  was  awaiting  him  in  the  armory  with  d'Herbigny 
and  Treville. 

A  table  was  spread ;  on  the  table  were  some  cutlets,  a 
pate,  and  two  bottles  only  of  old  wine. 

At  the  sight  the  chevalier  declared  that,  having  had 
only  his  chocolate  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  was 
literally  perishing  of  hunger. 

The  three  others  chimed  in  chorus. 

The  repast  was  as  gay  as  if  they  were  to  set  out  for 
the  opera  on  leaving  the  table.  Yet  from  time  to  time 
the  chevalier  felt  a  nervous  spasm  seize  his  heart ;  but  the 
sensation  was  merely  transient,  nor  was  it  strong  enough 
to  banish  the  smile  from  his  lips. 

They  sat  an  hour  at  the  table ;  but  they  drank  not  a 


THE   VALUE   OF   FENCING   LESSONS.  171 

glassful  more  than  the  two  bottles.  The  four  friends 
embraced  at  the  dessert. 

"  Listen,  chevalier,"  said  d'Herbigny,  Avho  passed  for 
the  best  swordsman  among  the  young  gentlemen  compos- 
ing the  ]N[arquis  de  Crette's  set.  "  It  was  easy  to  see  yes- 
terday wlien  you  rode  Marlborough,  and  to-day  when  you 
were  playing  tennis,  that  your  legs  are  of  iron  and  your 
arms  of  steel ;  do  you  flail  that  blackamoor  of  a  Kollinski, 
for  I  am  pretty  certain  that  he  will  wish  to  deal  with 
you,  —  and  it  is  quite  natural,  since  you  so  gallantly 
offered  to  run  him  through  with  your  sword.  He  em- 
ploys feints.  Break  his  wrist  for  him,  disable  him,  then 
you  Avill  liave  the  advantage." 

"  In  my  second  duel,"  responded  the  chevalier,  "  I  will 
do  that,  perhaps,  for,  as  my  father  has  always  told  me, 
breaking  a  wrist  is  not  running  away;  but  in  my  first, 
pardieu  !  I  will  not  recede  a  step,  and,  to  make  sure,  I 
warn  you  that  if  there  is  a  wall,  I  will  set  my  back 
to  it." 

"  That 's  right !  then  he  can  pin  you  like  a  butterfly 
to  the  wainscot.  Xo  boasting,  my  dear  fellow ;  remember 
that  when  he  has  finished  with  you,  he  will  fall  on  ovir 
backs." 

"  I  will  try  to  give  him  enough  to  attend  to  without 
meddling  in  your  little  affairs,"  replied  Roger. 

"  Amen  !  "  was  d'Herbigny's  response. 

"  Amen !  "  repeated  Crette  and  Tr^ville. 

All  three  put  on  their  swords ;  the  chevalier  had  not 
taken  off  his;  then  they  entered  a  carriage. 

Arrived  at  the  corner  of  the  convent  of  the  Filles-du- 
Saint-Sacrement,  Crette  pulled  the  strap;  the  coachman 
drew  up ;  a  little  jockey  sitting  beside  him  descended  and 
opened  the  door. 

"  You  are  to  wait  here,  Basque, "  said  the  marquis, 


172  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  to  see  if  any  one  comes,  as  we  sliall  probably  liave  much 
more  need  of  a  carriage  returning  tban  coming." 

The  four  young  men  sprang  to  the  ground, 

"  Well,  how  do  you  feel,  Roger  1  "  asked  the  marquis. 

"  I  ?  I  feel  marvellously  well,  and  to  do  credit  to  the 
company  I  am  in,  I  would  fight  with  the  devil  in  person." 

A  second  carriage  arrived.  Our  young  people's  four 
adversaries  descended.  They  were  the  Messieurs  de 
Kollinski,  the  Comte  de  Gorkaiin,  a  Saxon,  and  Monsieur 
de  Bardane,  an  officer  of  the  light-horse. 

They  advanced  toward  the  Marquis  de  Crette  and 
saluted. 

It  befell  with  regard  to  Roger  as  Monsieur  d'Herbigny 
had  anticipated.  The  elder  Kollinski  was  bent  upon 
fighting  him,  and  as  Roger  on  his  part  wished  to  fight 
Kollinski,   the  discussion  was  not  long. 

The  rest  of  the  match  was  arranged  as  follows:  the 
Marquis  de  Crette  engaged  Kollinski  the  younger, 
d'Herbigny  was  content  with  Monsieur  de  Bardane,  and 
Treville  with  the  Saxon, 

They  put  themselves  on  guard,  and  as  they  were  liable 
to  interruption  at  any  moment,  they  immediately  crossed 
weapons. 

The  Marquis  de  Crette  received  a  sword-thrust  in  the 
wrist,  d'Herbigny  slew  outright  Monsieur  de  Bardane, 
and  Treville  was  killed  by  the  Comte  de  Gorkaiin. 

As  for  Roger,  he  was,  without  suspecting  it,  a  first- 
class  swordsman ;  as  he  had  promised,  he  did  not  yield  a 
step.  On  the  other  hand,  he  lunged  at  his  adversary  three 
times:  the  first  time,  with  a  straight  thrust,  and  he 
pierced  his  cheek;  the  second,  with  a  parry  and  thrust, 
and  he  made  a  hole  in  his  neck ;  the  third,  with  a  feint, 
and  he  ran  him  through  the  breast. 

Monsieur  de  Kollinski,  the  elder,  fell. 


THE   VALUE   OF   FENCING   LESSONS.  173 

"  Peste  !  "  cried  Crette,  wlio  was  sitting  on  the  grass, 
"what  a  battering- ram  tliat  fellow  is!  he  would  break 
down  a  wall." 

Seeing  his  brother  fall,  the  younger  Kollinski  sprang 
at  Eoger,  but  his  way  was  barred  by  d'Herbigny. 

"One  moment,  monsieur,"  said  d'Herbigny  to  the 
Hungarian.  "  If  you  are  willing,  I  shall  have  the  honor 
of  serving  you  in  the  same  fashion  tliat  my  friend  Roger 
has  served  monsieur,  your  brother." 

And  with  that,  he  put  aside  Roger,  who  was  rushing 
forward,  maintaining  that  as  he  had  begun  with  the 
family  he  wished  to  stay  by  it;  but  there  was  no  time  to 
continue  the  discussion. 

The  Saxon  was  upon  him. 

"  Bardon,  my  tear  monsieur, "  he  was  saying,  "  but  I 
tink  not  we  should  stand  mit  folded  arms." 

"  Unfold  your  arms,  then, "  retorted  Roger,  resuming 
his  guard. 

"Be  quick,  be  quick,  messieurs!"  cried  Crette; 
"  Basque  is  signalling  that  some  one  is  coming." 

"  Attend,  attend, "  said  Roger ;  "  parry  that !  " 

He  lunged,  and  ran  his  sword  through  Comte  de 
Gorkailn's  shoulder. 

"  Monsieur, "  said  the  latter,  gravely,  "  if  efer  you 
should  gome  to  Dresden,  I  shall  pe  enchanted  to  enter- 
tain you." 

"  Monsieur, "  returned  Roger,  alive  to  the  compliment, 
"  you  may  count  upon  having  my  first  visit." 

The  two  adversaries  saluted. 

During  this  time  the  younger  Kollinski  and  d'Her- 
bigny were  interchanging  thrusts;  d'Herbigny  ran  Kol- 
linski through  the  hip,  and  Kollinski  scratched  his 
adversary's  thigh. 

At  the  summons  of  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  the  car- 


174  SYLVAN  DIRE. 

riage  came  up  at  a  gnllop.  Basque  and  Monsieur  de 
Kollinski's  coacliman  grouped  Monsieur  de  Burdane  and 
the  Vicomte  de  Trdville  together  in  such  a  manner  that 
they  might  be  supposed  to  liave  slain  each  other;  the 
elder  Kollinski,  who  was  still  alive,  was  home  to  his 
carriage;  his  brother  and  the  Saxon  took  their  places 
beside  him,  and  the  carriage  set  off  with  the  horses  at  a 
run.  For  their  part,  Crette,  d'Herbigny,  and  Roger 
sprang  lightly  into  their  own  coach,  and  the  horses  boro 
them  away  at  full  speed. 

"  My  dear  chevalier, "  said  the  marquis,  "  I  ask  for 
your  friendship,  and  in  all  sincerity  offer  you  mine." 

"  And  I,  too,"  added  d'Herbigny. 

"  You  overwhelm  me, "  was  Roger's  response. 

"  Roger,  Roger,"  protested  the  marquis,  "  you  know 
very  well  that  you  have  agreed  not  to  use  that  word  to 
me  again.     Saeredieu!  how  my  wrist  pains  me!  " 

"And  poor  Treville, "  said  d'Herbigny;  "to  think 
that  I  owed  him  two  hundred  pistoles !  " 

"  "What  would  you  have,  my  dear  fellow  ?  "  said  the 
marquis ;   "  that  account  is  settled. " 

And  all  three  re-entered  the  hotel  of  the  INIarquis  de 
Crette,  whence  d'Herbigny  and  Roger  did  not  emerge 
until  after  nightfall. 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    175 


xir. 

HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'aNGUILHEM  BECOMES  AC- 
QUAINTED WITH  THE  SON  OF  THE  EAST  INDIAN, 
AND    THE    KIND    OF    PERSON    HE    FINDS    HIM    TO    BE. 

All  these  adventures  had  passed  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
dream. 

Roger  had  had  time  to  live,  it  is  true;  but  he  had 
scarcely  had  leisure  to  perceive  that  he  was  living.  He 
discussed  this  phenomenal  activity  with  the  Marquis  de 
Crette. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  marquis,  "  that  is  the  way 
we  live  in  Paris.  However,  we  shall  lose  our  evening 
to-night,  or  I  shall,  at  least,  as  my  wrist  will  prevent 
my  going  out.  But  as  for  you,  your  two  wrists  are  very 
sound.  You  can  worthily  employ  your  time  from  now 
to  midnight." 

"  Xo,  thank  you,"  said  Roger;  "  I  shall  not  be  sorry 
to  return  to  my  hotel.  However,  at  the  rate  at  which 
I  am  going,  and  with  the  example  that  I  have  before  my 
eyes,  I  hope  that  in  a  week  I  shall  be  an  accomplished 
cavalier. " 

"  Pardieu  !  I  can  well  believe  that.  You  are  not 
recognizable  after  these  two  days.  Yet  there  is  really 
one  thing  more  urgent  than  the  dinners  at  Saint  Ger- 
main, the  games  of  tennis  at  the  Rue  de  Vaugirard,  and 
the  promenades  back  of  the  convent  of  the  Filles-du- 
Saint-Sacrement.  That  is  your  lawsuit,  and  I  advise 
you  to  attend  to  it. " 


176  SYLVANDIRE. 

"Such  is  my  intention,  indeed,"  replied  d'Anguil- 
hem ;  "  and  to-morrow  I  shall  8et  about  it. " 

"You  understand,  my  dear  fellow,  that  for  all  your 
business  I  place  either  coach  or  horse  at  your  disposal. 
Only  let  me  know  every  morning  your  hour  and  your 
■wishes,  and  one  or  the  other,  as  you  choose,  shall  be  at 
your  door. " 

"And  do  you  think  I  shall  win  my  suit?"  asked 
Eogcr. 

"  Ah!  bless  me,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  asking  more 
than  I  know.  Were  you  to  ask  if  I  thought  you  could 
break  Bucephalus,  I  should  answer  yes;  whether  I 
thought  3'ou  could  spit  Berthelot  and  Boisrobert,  our 
best  fencing-masters,  I  should  say  it  is  quite  possible; 
but,  2:)este  !  my  dear  friend,  a  judge  is  not  to  be  won 
over  as  a  horse  is  broken  or  a  man  is  killed.  There  are 
attorneys,  tipstaves,  counsellors,  chief  justices,  adminis- 
trators, creditors,  a  world  of  big-wigs,  a  hell  of  dirty 
rascals.  You  must  first  try  to  get  the  names  of  all  these 
fellows.  Then  you  will  tell  me,  and  then  we  will  con- 
trive to  beguile  some  of  them  with  fine  words,  and  to 
bribe  others  with  money." 

"As  for  the  fine  words  that  is  all  very  well,"  re- 
turned Roger;  "  and  I  am  in  funds  so  far  as  they  are 
concerned.  I  studied  rhetoric  with  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi, 
who  is  an  intellectual  fellow,  and  philosophy  with  the 
Jesuits  of  Amboise;  but  as  for  money,  that  is  another 
thing.  My  father  gave  me  fifty  louis  for  six  months' 
expenses,  and  in  two  days  I  have  already  made  away 
with  twenty  pistoles." 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  I  have  told  you  that  among 
gentlemen  there  need  be  no  anxiety  about  such  matters. 
Help  yourself  from  my  purse.  I  have  an  income  of 
sixty  thousand  livres,  and  if  it  were  not  for  my  steward 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    177 

I  should  scarcely  get  rid  of  it.  Take  it,  my  dear  fel- 
low, take  it.  You  shall  pay  it  all  back  when  you  are  a 
millionaire." 

"  And  if  I  lose  my  suit  ?  "  demurred  Roger. 

"  Well,  what  of  that,  chevalier  1  You  would  not  need 
to  hang  yourself!  We  Avill  take  what  is  left  of  your 
money  and  sit  down  to  a  card-table.  One  cannot  always 
lose.  Fortune  will  owe  you  revenge,  and  she  will  give 
it  to  you." 

"All  that  is  rather  precarious,  my  dear  marquis,  and 
I  confess  that  the  future  does  not  look  very  rosy." 

"Ah,  yes!  You  have  great  reason  to  complain,  it 
seems  to  me.  What  should  Bardane  and  Treville  say 
if  you  are  not  satisfied  1  By  the  way,  my  dear  Roger, 
if  you  are  questioned  on  the  subject,  don't  fail  to  say 
that  they  quarrelled  at  tennis,  and  that  they  ran  each 
other  through.  If  some  busybody  asks  how  you  know, 
say  that  I  told  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Roger;  and  he  prepared  to  leave. 

"  And  one  word  more.  Send  to  KoUinski's  to-morrow 
morning  to  learn  whether  he  is  dead  or  alive.  You 
certainly  owe  him  that.  If  he  is  dead,  rest  his  soul! 
all  is  over.  If  not,  send  every  day  until  he  either  passes 
away  or  is  cured.  Did  you  not  give  the  Saxon  a  little 
scratch,  tool  " 

"  I  believe  I  ran  him  through  the  shoulder." 

"Ah!  you  believe!  Well,  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone,  and  send  to  both  places  at  the  same  time." 

"  But  their  addresses  ?  " 

"  Petitpas  will  take  them  to  you  in  the  morning." 

"Who  is  Petitpas?" 

"  A  messenger  of  mine." 

"Well,  a  good-night  to  you,  marquis." 

"  Thanks  for  the  wish,  but  I  am  skeptical.     My  wrist 

12 


178  SYLVANDIRE. 

I)ains  mo  as  if  possessed.  That  beast  of  a  Kollinski 
might  liave  given  me  a  tlirust  somewhere  else!  What 
brutes  tliose  Hungarians  are!  Well,  good-night,  my 
friend,  you  know  what  to  expect  from  to-day,  —  for  life, 
for  death  between  us." 

On  his  way  to  his  hotel  Roger  reflected  that,  even  if 
he  had  not  killed,  he  had  severely  injured  that  day ,  a  man ; 
and  he  was  astonished,  in  spite  of  the  Ijehests  of  God 
and  the  church,  which  command  us  to  love  our  neighbor 
as  ourselves,  —  he  was  astonished,  I  say,  that  he  expe- 
rienced no  great  amount  of  remorse. 

More  than  that,  when  he  saw  Monsieur  de  Kollinski 
fall,  far  from  any  regret  whatever,  he  had  felt  a  sensation 
of  the  keenest  joy,  so  true  is  it  that  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  overrides  every  other  sentiment. 

However,  one  fact  came  to  Roger's  relief  in  the  midst 
of  the  low  opinion  that  he  was  forming  of  himself,  — 
the  fact  that  between  his  two  friends  scarcely  had  men- 
tion been  made  of  poor  Treville  who  had  been  slain, 
save  that,  as  we  have  said,  after  his  death,  d'Herbigny 
had  recalled  his  indebtedness  to  him  of  a  hundred 
louis,  a  circumstance  that,  perhaps,  might  not  have 
been  so  faithfully  recalled  to  mind  had  Treville 
lived. 

And  yet  Crette  and  d'Herbigny  had  been  intimately 
acquainted  with  Treville  for  ten  or  twelve  years. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  Treville  undoubtedly  had  a 
father,  a  mother,  a  sweetheart,  whom  his  death  would 
plunge  into  deep  mourning.  Roger  shuddered  when  he 
thought  that  he,  too,  had  all  these,  and  that  it  had  been 
quite  possible  that,  at  the  very  time  when  he  was  mak- 
ing these  reflections,  he  himself,  Roger,  might  have  been 
lying  in  Treville's  place. 

The  thought  made  the  chevalier  double  his  speed,  for 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    179 

he  was  in  great  haste  to  write  to  Anguilhem  and  pour 
out  to  those  he  loved  all  the  sentiments  of  which  his 
heart  was  full. 

Roger  wrote  indeed  to  his  father  and  to  his  mother. 
He  was  so  happy  that  his  joy  broke  over  him  in  floods. 
It  is  such  a  delight  to  live  when  one  has  but  just  escaped 
death,  and  when  to  the  happiness  of  preservation  is 
added  the  pride  of  triumph!  Then,  still  another  thing 
helped  to  reassure  Roger.  He  would  never  hereafter 
feel  that  beating  of  the  heart  which  is  the  uncertainty 
of  the  brave.  He  knew  his  own  skill,  and  others 
knew  it. 

He  entreated  his  mother  not  to  forget  that,  after  the 
love  he  bore  her  and  his  father,  the  one  and  only  senti- 
ment of  his  heart  was  for  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie. 
He  begged  that  she  would  let  it  be  known  in  the  country 
that,  being  admitted  to  the  intimacy  of  the  Marquis  de 
Crette,  he  was  starting  out  in  Paris  in  good  shape. 
Then  he  described  in  detail  his  costumes,  slipped  in  a 
few  words  about  his  rising  reputation,  and  asked  if  the 
other  fifty  louis  could  not  be  forwarded  soon.  At  the 
last  came  a  postscript  of  a  page  and  a  half  in  length  for 
Constance. 

In  his  letter  to  the  baron ,  —  for  the  chevalier  would 
have  regarded  it  as  sacrilege  to  confound  his  heart  affairs 
with  business  matters,  —  in  his  letter  to  the  baron  Roger 
explained  at  length  the  apprehensions  of  Maitre  Coque- 
nard.  He  outlined  the  critical  position  in  which  the 
case  involved  the  little  fortune  of  Anguilhem,  and,  as  at 
bottom  the  conceited  youth,  convinced  that  nothing 
could  now  withstand  him,  did  not  doubt  of  winning  his 
suit,  he  took  pleasure  in  exaggerating  the  difficulties 
that  he  might  seem  the  more  gloriously  victorious. 

The  postscript  of  this  second  letter  was  consecrated  to^ 


180  SYLVANDIRE. 

Christopher,  who  was  living  at  oaso  and  on  tho  fat  of 
the  land  in  tho  stables  of  The  Golden  Harrow. 

Yet  tho  business  which  had  brought  Koger  to  Paris 
was  in  progress.  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois  had  died  of  an 
apoplectic  attack  without  signifying  by  word  or  writing 
his  intentions,  for  the  worthy  gentleman  had  believed 
himself  still  to  have  ten  or  twelve  good  years  of  life 
ahead.  His  hotel,  in  the  Place  Louis-le-Grand,  was 
suddenly  deserted.  The  son  of  the  East  Indian,  —  thus 
the  woman  was  always  spoken  of  whom  the  Vicomte  de 
Bouzonois  had  brought  from  beyond  the  sea,  —  tlio  son 
of  the  East  Indian,  I  say,  had  come  forward  to  take  pos- 
session, but  as  he  had  neither  title  nor  established  rights, 
the  seals  had  been  put  on  the  house,  and  the  property 
sequestered. 

Roger  had  promised  himself  to  visit  the  hotel  at  the 
very  first  opportunity.  He  therefore  took  advantage  of 
the  occasion  when  he  was  leaving  his  card  at  Monsieur 
de  Kollinski's,  who  lived  in  the  Hue  des  Capucines, 
and  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Gorkaiin's,  who  resided  in 
the  neighborhood  of  La  Ferme-des-Mathurins,  to  pause, 
in  passing,  in  front  of  his  future  property. 

He  recognized  it  by  the  uninhabited  appearance  of  its 
sealed  doors  and  windows.  It  was  a  grand  and  liand- 
some  h6tel  which  might  of  itself  have  been  worth  three 
hundred  thousand  livres,  an  enormous  sum  in  those 
days.  Roger  remarked  a  stone  escutcheon  upon  which 
was  graven  the  dead  man's  coat  of  arms,  and  upon  which 
he  promised  himself  that  his  own  should  be  graven  as 
soon  as  the  probable  winning  of  his  suit  would  permit 
his  vanity  that  little  gratification.  To  be  brief,  he  came 
and  went  before  the  h6tel  in  order  to  view  it  under  every 
aspect,  when  he  noticed  a  gentleman  who,  having  arrived 
^t  almost  the  same  time  as  he,  was  performing  the  same 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    181 

manoeuvres  with  an  air  as  preoccupied  as  his  own.  For 
that  reason  he  observed  the  gentleman  the  more 
attentively. 

He  Avas  a  man  to  whom  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
assign  a  definite  age,  although  it  was  evident  that  it 
must  lie  between  twenty-five  and  forty  years.  An 
orange-yellow  hue  overspread  his  face  and  even  en- 
croached upon  the  whites  of  his  eyes.  He  had  small 
white  teeth,  jet-black  hair,  a  coat  whose  seams  were 
covered  with  lace,  and  whose  color  was  most  striking, 
two  watch-chains,  and  rings  on  every  finger.  At  the 
other  side  of  the  street  there  waited  for  him  a  great 
gilded  coach,  on  the  box  of  Avhich  sat  a  coachman  still 
yellower  than  he.  To  the  door  clung  a  valet  in  the 
costume  of  a  Lascar  who  was  yellower  still  than  the 
coachman. 

At  the  same  time  that  Roger  appeared  to  remark  this 
strange-looking  personage,  the  latter  also  seemed  to 
observe  Roger.  Both  repeatedly  and  successively  con- 
veyed their  glances  from  the  hdtel  to  the  other  and  from 
the  other  to  the  hdtel.  Then  the  great  door  of  the  h6tel 
aforesaid  being  half-opened  to  give  passage  to  a  sort  of 
steward  habited  in  black,  the  two  observers  hastened  to 
the  doorway  at  the  same  moment  and  thrust  their  heads 
into  the  opening,  and  that,  too,  with  such  precipita- 
tion that  their  heads  met  in  collision. 

Roger,  who  was  very  well-bred,  offered  apologies  to 
the  unknown.  As  for  the  unknown,  he  gave  utterance 
to  a  sort  of  low  growl  which  might  have  been  inter- 
preted to  mean,  — 

"  The  deuce!  that  rascal  is  no  soft-pate." 

Thereupon  both  together  exclaimed,  — 

"  My  faith,  this  is  a  fine  h6tel!  " 

"  Is  it  not  so,  monsieur?  " 


182  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  That  is  my  opinion,"  was  the  stranger's  response. 

"  And  when  the  grass  that  is  beginning  to  dot  the 
court  has  been  weeded  out  —  " 

"  And  when  a  coat  of  paint  has  been  given  to  the 
shutters  and  doors  —  " 

"  And  when  all  is  enlivened  in  the  daytime  by  hand- 
some carriages  and  horses  —  " 

"  Illumined  at  night  by  a  thousand  liglits  —  " 

"  Faith!  I  shall  have  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
hdtels  in  Paris,"  declared  Roger. 

"Your  pardon,  monsieur,"  said  the  stranger;  "you 
mean  to  say  that  I  sliall  have  one  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cent hdtels  in  Paris." 

"  Not  at  all.     I  did  not  say  you;  I  said  /." 

"  But  who,  pray,  are  you?  " 

"  I  am  the  cousin  of  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois." 

"  And  I,  monsieur,  am  his  stepson." 

"  What!  you  are  the  Indian?  " 

"  And  you  are  the  provincial  1  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Roger,  "  the  word  is  not  polite.  I 
am  from  the  province,  it  is  true,  but  I  am  not  provin- 
cial for  all  that.  I  am  the  friend  of  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis de  Crette,  of  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  d'Herbigny,  of 
Monsieur  le  Chevalier  de  Clos-Renaud,  and  yesterday  I 
gave  three  sword-thrusts  to  a  Hungarian  who  was  a  head 
taller  than  you." 

"  Well,  monsieur,  what  do  you  mean  by  that?  " 

"  I  mean,  monsieur,"  replied  Roger,  "  that  as  I  have 
had  the  honor  of  meeting  you,  I  shall  do  myself  the 
honor  of  making  you  a  proposition. " 

"  Of  compromise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  of  compromise." 

"  Of  what  nature  ?     Proceed. " 

"  It  is  this.     Come  around  with  me  to  the  rear  of  the 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    183 

convent  of  the  Filles-du-Saint-Sacrcmeut,  and  as  man's 
judgment  is  always  fallible,  let  us,  like  the  chevaliers 
of  old,  confide  the  decision  of  our  suit  to  the  judgment 
of  God." 

"  Why,  you  are  proposing  a  duel!  "  cried  the  Indian, 
turning  from  orange-yellow  to  pale  yellow. 

"If  you  kill  me,"  continued  Roger,  "the  h6tel  is 
yours  beyond  dispute.  If  I  kill  you  that  is  the  end  of 
the  lawsuit." 

"  Excuse  me,  monsieur,"  replied  the  Indian,  regaining 
his  coach;  "I  am  sure  of  winning  my  suit,  but  I  am 
not  sure  of  giving  you  a  sword-thrust.  We  will  abide 
then,  if  you  are  willing,  by  the  judgment  of  man." 

And  the  Indian  entered  his  coach  and  set  off  at  full 
speed,  after  closing  it  even  to  the  sashes  of  the  doors. 

"  Pavdieu !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  "there  goes  an 
original!  " 

And  he  proceeded  to  inscribe  his  name  at  Monsieur  de 
KoUinski's,  who  was  still  alive,  and  at  the  Comte  de 
Gorkalin's,  who  was  as  comfortable  as  circumstances 
permitted. 

After  which  he  returned  to  report  to  the  Marquis  de 
Crette,  to  whom  he  also  related  his  conversation  with 
the  Indian. 

The  marquis  suffered  constant  pain  from  his  wrist, 
which,  however,  had  not  prevented  his  paying  two  or 
three  morning  calls  in  order  to  mislead  people  who 
might  have  heard  that  he  had  fought  and  had  been 
wounded.  The  precaution  was  not  unnecessary,  for  the 
duel  of  the  preceding  day  had  made  a  great  stir,  but  as 
it  had  been  impossible  to  lay  hands  upon  any  one, 
and  as  the  two  dead  men  had  maintained  the  profoundest 
silence,  no  one  was  compromised. 

Nothing,  therefore,  prevented  the  marquis  from  tak- 


184  SYLVANDIRE. 

ing  up  tho  chevalier's  case,  and  making  his  visits  along 
with  him. 

There  were  three  chief  judges  and  the  conseiller- 
rajyporteur. 

Tho  chevalier  and  the  marquis  began  by  visiting  the 
judges.  They  were  three  eccentrics,  having  each  a  de- 
cided liking  for  different  animals.  One  adored  his  cat, 
another  his  ape,  the  third  his  parrot.  Tlie  chevalier 
was  very  friendly  with  the  three  judges,  and  the  mar- 
quis was  very  attentive  to  the  three  animals;  but  as  soon 
as  either  of  them  wished  to  broach  the  subject  of  the 
suit,  the  judges  gave  the  gentlemen  to  understand  that 
they  would  much  prefer  to  speak  of  other  matters. 

As  to  the  conseiller-rapporteur,  he  was  a  Puritan, 
and  so  austere  that  he  refused  even  to  receive  them. 

"  Peste  /  "  exclaimed  the  marquis;  "it  looks  to  me 
like  a  bad  omen." 

However,  they  learned  one  fine  morning  that  the  case 
was  evoked  at  the  Palais.  Two  months  had  rolled  by, 
for  it  had  required  at  least  two  months  to  draAV  up  the 
official  report,  to  complete  the  inventories,  and  to  inves- 
tigate the  relative  titles  of  the  claimants.  During  all 
this  time  Roger  had  debated  whether  it  were  not  best  to 
effect  a  compromise  with  the  son  of  the  East  Indian. 
But  the  marquis  was  opposed  to  all  overtures  of  such  a 
nature,  while  the  Indian  everywhere  announced  that  his 
case  was  not  at  all  doubtful,  and  that  he  could  furnish 
the  court  a  document  so  authentic  that  the  Messieurs 
d'Anguilhem,  father  and  son,  would,  to  their  confusion, 
find  their  pretensions  overruled. 

Meanwhile  the  business  dragged  on  at  its  usual  pace. 
Justice  is  not  only  blind,  but  halt  and  lame  as  well. 
The  chevalier  felt  a  keen  distaste  for  all  these  excur- 
sions to  the  Palais  and  the  Saint-Chapelle.     However, 


THE  CIIEVALIEK  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    185 

every  eighth  day  found  his  coach,  or  rather,  the  Mar- 
quis de  Crette's  coach,  in  the  neighborhood,  —  the  day, 
usually,  after  the  baron's  weekly  letter. 

Had  not  Eoger  been  in  some  sort  the  guest  of  the 
Marquis  de  Crette,  had  he  not  found  in  him  friend, 
banker,  and  adviser  all  in  one,  he  might  of  necessity 
have  resolved  to  proffer  a  compromise  to  the  son  of  the 
Indienne,  who  was  waging  the  war  with  plenty  of 
money. 

But  that  unfortunate  "  authentic "  document  espe- 
cially tormented  Roger.  As  for  the  Baron  d'Anguil- 
hem,  to  whom  every  new  letter  from  his  son  brought  a 
new  subject  for  anxiety,  he  no  longer  slept. 

"Try,"  he  always  wrote,  "to  discover  what  that 
vaunted  document  is,  whether  it  is  an  entail,  a  will,  or 
a  deed  of  gift." 

Roger  sought  and  found  not. 

He  assembled  his  council,  composed  of  the  Marquis 
de  Crette,  d'Herbigny,  Clos-Renaud,  and  Chastellux, 
to  learn  what  he  should  do.  He  had  been  told  of  one 
Sieur  Viellere,  who  engaged  in  all  sorts  of  clandestine 
transactions,  such  as  gaining  information  from  secret 
papers,  gauging  the  contents  of  hermetically  sealed 
boxes,  or  the  abstraction  even  of  deeds  and  titles.  It 
is  clearly  to  be  understood  that  it  was  not  now  proposed 
to  steal  the  document  from  the  other  party,  but  to  pro- 
cure a  copy  in  order  to  aid  the  advocates  in  defeating 
it.  The  council  of  gentlemen  unanimously  repelled  this 
proposition  as  dishonorable. 

One  day  d'Herbigny  thought  that  he  had  discovered 
a  means  of  assisting  matters.  As  he  was  passing  the 
Porte  de  la  Conference  he  recognized,  from  the  descrip- 
tion that  Roger  had  given  of  him,  the  Indian,  who  was 
coming  through  the  gate  in  his  coach  with  a  woman  who 


186  SYLVANDIRE. 

had  onco  been  the  viscount's  mistress,  and  who  was,  it 
would  appear,  on  the  best  of  terms  with  Roger's  adver- 
sary. Like  a  devoted  friend,  d'Herbigny  believed  that 
here  was  a  chance  to  terminate  the  lawsuit  in  which 
languished  the  fortunes  and  the  peace  of  Anguilhem. 

Thereupon  he  made  a  sign  to  the  coachman  to  stop, 
very  impudently  approached  the  door,  staring  meanwliilo 
at  the  lady  who  belonged  to  the  Comedie-Franqaise  and 
was  called  Mademoiselle  Poussette.  Mademoiselle 
Poussette,  recognizing  the  viscount  of  whom  she  had 
once  been  very  fond,  smiled  affectionately. 

"  Pardieu  !  monsieur  and  madame,"  said  d'Herbigny, 
"  what  say  you  to  a  little  supper  for  us  three  ?  It  seems 
to  me  that  we  should  enjoy  it  —  " 

"I  do  not  know  you,"  sharply  replied  the  Indian, 
whose  eyes  turned  perfectly  yellow,  "  and  I  do  not  eat 
with  strangers." 

"  But  madame  knows  me,  and  she  will  tell  you  that  I 
belong  to  good  society.  Poussette,  my  dear,"  continued 
d'Herbigny,  "  I  beg  that  you  will  do  me  the  favor  of 
presenting  me  to  monsieur. " 

"  Let  me  introduce  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  d'Herbigny," 
said  Poussette,  laughing  at  her  old  lover's  impertinence. 

"Ah!  very  good  —  d'Herbigny  —  d'Herbigny,"  re- 
peated the  Indian.  "  I  remember  that  name.  You  are 
a  friend  of  that  little  d'Anguilhem,  and  you  have  come 
to  pick  a  quarrel  with  me  in  order  to  secure  his  succession 
to  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois'  estate.  Try  that  elsewhere, 
my  fine  gentleman.  My  lawyer  has  warned  me  against 
such  accidents !  " 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  one  of  the  friends  of  Mon- 
sieur d'Anguilhem,  who,  by  the  way,  is  a  head  taller 
than  you  or  I.  But  you  have  put  upon  me  a  mortal 
affront  by  attributing  to  me  such  an  intention.     And  so, 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    187 

monsieur,  I  regard  you  as  an  ill-bred  savage,  and  I  beg 
you  to  state  when  and  where  my  seconds  may  confer 
with  yours. " 

"  Good!  you  persist  in  your  purpose,  only  you  take 
another  road.  You  are  still  bent  upon  a  quarrel. 
Well,  let  me  win  my  case,  and  then  we  shall  see 
about  it." 

This  conclusion  seemed  such  a  burlesque  to  d'Her- 
bigny  that  he  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Pardieu !  "  he  exclaimed  to  the  Malabar,  "  you 
are  a  good-natured  Indian,  and  I  should  be  delighted 
to  have  supper  with  you,  only  for  the  pleasure  of 
making  your  further  acquaintance.  If  you  are  so 
agreeable  when  fasting,  you  must  be  charming  when 
drunk. " 

"Another  way  of  inheriting,"  returned  the  Indian. 
"  You  would  poison  me. " 

"  Ah !  you  are  a  buffalo !  "  exclaimed  Mademoiselle 
Poussette.  "  I  will  not  remain  an  instant  longer  in  your 
coach.  Open  the  door,  vicomte.  I  will  have  supper 
with  you." 

D'Herbigny  opened  the  door  and  Mademoiselle  Pous- 
sette leaped  to  the  pavement.  Then,  after  taking  leave 
of  the  nabob,  the  one  with  a  bow,  the  other  with  a  cour- 
tesy, they  walked  away  together,  arm  in  arm. 

And  then  Mademoiselle  Poussette  informed  him  that 
the  other  was  the  most  ridiculous  man  that  she  had  ever 
seen;  that  he  could  talk  of  nothing  but  his  inheritance, 
saw  on  all  sides  only  emissaries  of  the  chevalier,  and 
that  he  had  this  very  day  demanded  of  the  criminal  lieu- 
tenant an  escort,  which  he  was  on  the  point  of  obtaining. 

This  seemed  important  to  d'Herbigny,  who,  on  leav- 
ing Mademoiselle  Poussette's  the  next  morning,  hastened 
to  the  Marquis  de  Crett^'s  and  related  the  circumstance 


188  SYLVANDIRE. 

to  him.  The  marquis  augured  from  it  that  the  Indian 
had  already  expended  a  great  deal  of  money,  -without 
counting  tliat  ho  was  besides  undouhtedly  supported  hy 
the  Naval  Department,  with  which  Monsieur  de  IJouze- 
nois  had  been  on  excellent  terms. 

In  his  last  letter  Roger  had  acquainted  his  father 
with  tlicse  unpleasant  details. 

Day  by  day  the  indications  became  more  alarming. 
Soon  a  rumor  was  spread  that  the  son  of  the  East  Indian 
had  exhibited  to  the  three  judges  the  document  upon 
which  he  relied  for  the  support  of  his  pretensions,  and 
that  the  three  judges  had  assured  him  of  the  successful 
issue  of  his  cause.  This  news  fell  like  a  thunder-bolt 
on  the  Anguilhem  party.  The  matter  began  to  be 
regarded  as  desperate  by  the  little  group  of  gentlemen. 
They  were  already  considering  how  to  raise  the  money 
necessary  to  defray  the  enormous  expenses  of  the  exam- 
ination, and  the  damages  likely  to  be  awarded  to  Mon- 
sieur de  Bouzenois'  stepson,  for  the  Baron  d'Anguilhem 
had  appeared  as  plaintiff  in  the  case.  The  ex- 
penses were  estimated  at  six  thousand  livres.  In  addi- 
tion Maitre  Coquenard  laid  claim  to  an  honorarium  of 
four  thousand  livres.  Roger's  sojourn,  with  the  ad- 
vances made  by  his  friends,  had  cost  almost  five  thousand 
livres.  The  case  being  lost,  nothing  would  remain  to 
the  baron  of  all  his  little  fortune,  and  the  day  was 
approaching  when  the  sad  truth  was  about  to  be  revealed 
to  him. 

The  Marquis  de  Crette's  behavior  toward  Roger  was 
perfect  under  the  circumstances.  He  offered  him  ten 
thousand  crowns  payable  at  his  convenience;  but  Roger 
replied  that  neither  he  nor  his  father  could  accept  a  sum 
which  they  knew  in  advance  that  they  would  be  unable 
to  repay.     He  then   declared  that  he  would   meet  the 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    189 

blow  with  his  own  resources,  and  that  in  case  of  neces- 
sity he  would  enlist  in  one  of  the  regiments  setting  out 
for  Flanders. 

D'Herbigny,  too,  did  everything  in  his  power. 
Thanks  to  his  influence  with  Mademoiselle  Foussette, 
he  prevailed  on  her  to  return  to  the  Indian,  in  order  to 
make  sure  of  the  existence  of  that  document,  and  if  the 
document  had  no  existence,  to  discover  on  what  re- 
sources lloger's  adversary  relied. 

As  for  Roger,  he  sought  out  his  advocates,  Maitre 
Branchu  and  Maitre  Verniquet,  and  begged  them  to  over- 
look notliing  in  their  pleadings;  but,  despite  all  the 
vanity  natural  to  practitioners,  they  shook  their  heads 
and  deplored  having  been  retained  in  such  a  bad  cause. 
Roger  was  urgent,  and  they  confessed  that  the  three 
judges  to  whom  they  had  spoken  had  left  them  little 
ground  for  hope.  They  advised  Roger  to  go  back  and 
make  desperate  overtures  to  the  cat,  the  ape,  and  the 
parrot,  which  were  such  delights  to  those  respectable 
jurists.  But  it  was  advice  given  as  doctors  prescribe 
health  resorts,  —  that  they  should  not  have  to  reproach 
themselves  with  negligence  of  any  sort.  Had  they 
known,  they  said,  that  the  defence  was  in  possession 
of  a  title  Avhich,  it  was  asserted,  could  be  supported, 
nothing  in  the  world  could  have  induced  them  to  take 
charge  of  his  case.  Roger,  who  neither  dared  nor  was 
able  to  promise  them  momitains  of  gold,  hung  his  head 
before  these  alarming  previsions,  and  as  he  was  only  his 
father's  man  of  business,  he  faithfully  transmitted  to 
him  all  that  was  unpleasant  in  the  lawyers'  reluctant 
attitude. 

But  it  was  in  his  letter  to  his  mother  that  his  despair 
burst  forth.  To  her  he  deplored  not  only  the  loss  of 
the  suit  and  the  consequent  loss  of  his  fortune,  but  that 


190  SYLVANDIRE. 

most  cruel  loss  of  all,  the  loss  of  Constance.  For,  amid 
all  his  dinners,  his  duels,  his  drives,  and  his  visits,  to 
the  chevalier's  credit  lot  us  say,  the  image  of  Constance 
had  not  for  a  moment  left  his  heart. 

He  confided  to  Crette  the  advice  given  him  by  his 
counsel  to  attempt  a  last  assault  upon  the  judges.  He 
stulfed  his  pockets  with  cakes  for  the  cat,  almonds  for 
the  ape,  and  macaroons  for  the  parrot;  but,  far  from 
being  sensible  of  these  attentions,  the  cat  scratched  hira, 
the  ape  bit  him,  and  the  parrot  called  him  a  country 
lout. 

"  You  are  a  ruined  man!  "  exclaimed  the  marquis,  on 
leaving  the  house  of  the  third  judge.  "  You  will  lose 
with  costs. " 

That  evening  the  conduct  of  the  jurists  and  their 
respective  pets  was  explained  to  Roger  and  his  com- 
panions by  Mademoiselle  Poussette.  As  the  judges 
were  men  of  probity,  they  would  not  have  been  willing 
to  accept  bribes.  But  the  Indian  had  given  a  ring  worth 
two  thousand  pistoles  to  the  cat,  had  donated  ten  thou- 
sand crowns  to  the  ape,  and  had  bestowed  a  life-annuity 
of  three  thousand  livres  upon  the  parrot. 

As  to  the  conseiller-rapporteur.,  all  attentions  had  been 
thrown  away  upon  him.  His  door  had  been  constantly 
closed  against  the  Indian  as  well  as  Eoger,  and  no  one 
knew  of  any  beast,  savage  or  domestic,  to  Avhich  one 
could  offer  jewelled  rings,  make  donations,  or  present 
life-annuities. 

Roger  and  the  marquis  tried  a  last  attack  upon  him, 
but  with  no  greater  success  than  had  attended  the  first. 

Such  an  upright  man  was  Maitre  Bouteau,  the  con- 
seiUer-rapjjiorteuT  ! 

As  may  be  supposed,  all  these  successive  disappoint- 
ments had,  in  spite  of  his  light-hearted  nature,  gradually 


THE  CHEVALIER  MEETS  THE  EAST  INDIAN'S  SON.    191 

led  the  chevalier  into  a  deep  melancholy.  The  pros- 
pect of  the  ruin  of  his  entire  family,  of  the  loss  of  Con- 
stance, whom  he  had  found  again  only  to  he  separated 
from  her  the  second  time  yet  more  cruelly  than  the  first, 
and  of  enlistment  as  a  simple  volunteer  in  the  Royal- 
Italien,  the  Picardie,  or  the  Nivernais,  all  held  nothing 
but  despair.  The  chevalier,  too,  abandoned  himself  to 
hopelessness,  and  was  unwilling  to  listen  to  any  conso- 
lation. He  refused  all  the  diversions  proposed  by  his 
friends  in  their  efforts  to  distract  his  mind,  and  spent 
his  time  in  his  room  at  The  Golden  Harrow  writing  to 
his  mother  or  composing  elegies  to  Constance.  For  we 
must  add  that,  as  a  last  misfortune  along  with  the 
melancholy,  a  taste  for  poetry  had  come  upon  him. 


192  SYLVANDIRE. 


XIII. 

HOW,  JUST  AS  THE  CHEVALIER  HAD  FALLEN  A  PREY  TO 
THE  PROFOUNDEST  DESPAIR,  A  STRANGER  VISITED 
HIM  TO  MAKE  A  PROPOSITION  NOT  EXPECTED  BY 
HIM    NOR   BY    THE   READER. 

One  morning,  while  Roger  was  viewing  liimself  in  a 
small  mirror  to  see  how  grief  became  him,  and  was  at  the 
same  time  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  a  very  bad, 
but  excessively  tender,  quatrain  intended  for  Mademoi- 
selle Constance  de  Beuzerie,  just  as  he  had  hit  upon  a 
rhyme  sufficiently  exquisite  to  end  the  last  line,  there 
came  three  knocks  at  his  chamber-door. 

"^  Come  in, "  answered  d'Anguilhem. 

The  door  slowly  opened,  and  the  person  who  had 
knocked  entered. 

He  was  a  man  whose  countenance  bore  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  the  fox ;  he  was  evidently  an  habitue  of  the 
Palais,  a  sort  of  hanger-on,  a  rat  of  La  Sainte-Chapelle. 
During  the  four  months  that  Roger  had  been  frequenting 
the  Salle  des  Pas-Perdus  he  had  learned  to  recognize  the 
lowest  tool  of  Themis  by  his  claw-like  fingers  and  hooked 
beak. 

The  visitor  had  red  hair  which  was  plastered  upon  the 
forehead,  a  great  purple  wart  on  each  cheek,  an  eye  as 
changing  as  the  opal,  a  great  void  between  the  teeth  of 
the  upper  jaw,  and  a  sharp  chin,  the  underside  of  which 
hollowed  out  rather  than  projected  upward  from  the 
throat. 


THE  CHEVALIER  RECEIVES  A  STRANGE  VISITOR.      193 

"  Good  !  "  exclaimed  Roger  to  himself,  "  here  is  some 
new  exploit  adduced  for  my  benefit;  if  it  should  be 
necessary  to  pay  the  expense  at  once,  I  shall  have  to  part 
with  my  last  pistole.  No  matter,  let  us  put  on  a  bold 
face." 

And,  with  a  moderately  firm  bearing,  he  awaited  the 
man  with  the  Avarts. 

The  man  with  the  warts  bowed  profoundly. 

"  Have  I  the  honor  to  address  Monsieur  Roger  Tan- 
crede.  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem,  of  La  Guerite,  La  Pin- 
tade,   and  other  estates  1  " 

Roger  reflected  that  Avere  he  still  lord  of  all  those  sei- 
gneuries,  he  was  on  the  road  to  be  disembarrassed  of  them, 
a  reflection  which,  although  he  was  astonished  at  the 
preamble,  did  not  prevent  his  replying  quite  steadily,  — 

"Yes,  monsieur,  I  am  he." 

"  Is  there  nobody, "  continued  the  man  with  the  warts, 
"  who  might  be  concealed  in  the  closet  that  I  observe 
back  of  your  alcove  1  " 

"Nobody,  monsieur,"  replied  Roger;  "and  permit  me 
to  remark  that  the  question  seems  a  strange  one." 

"Yet  nothing  could  be  simpler,  monsieur;  you  might 
have  had  with  you  either  a  mistress  or  a  friend.  You 
are  too  handsome  a  fellow  and  too  good  a  comrade  to  be 
wanting  either.  You  might,  I  say,  have  had  with  you  a 
mistress  or  a  friend,  and,  in  order  to  receive  me  more 
at  your  ease,  have  employed  the  closet  as  a  place  of 
concealment. " 

"  I  was  alone,  monsieur, "  insisted  the  chevalier,  "  and 
that  closet  is  quite  solitary." 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  assure  myself  ?  "  returned  the 
man  with  the  warts. 

" Parhleu!  monsieur;  it  appears  strange  that  you  do 
not  believe  my  word." 

13 


194  SYLVANDIRE. 

"Oil!  I  l)(jlieve  you,  monsieur  le  chevalier,"  said  the 
unknown,  slowly  edging  his  way  toward  the  closet,  "  I 
believe  you,  for  I  know  you  to  be  a  man  of  honor;  how- 
ever, without  your  permission  or  your  knowledge,  some 
indiscreet  person  may  have  slipped  in  —  " 

And  the  visitor  partly  opened  the  door  and  thrust  in 
his  little  weasel-like  head. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  nobody  is  here." 

"What  the  deuce  can  this  queer  individual  wish  with 
me  1  "   the  chevalier  asked  himself. 

"And  the  walls,"  continued  the  man  with  the  warts, 
"are  they  thick?" 

"My  faith!  go  and  examine  them,  monsieur,"  cried 
d'Anguilhem ;  "  you  are  really  begixuiing  to  try  my 
patience." 

"  Don't  fly  into  a  passion,  monsieur,  don't  fly  into  a 
passion.  I  very  humbly  ask  your  pardon  for  taking  all 
these  precautions;  but  you  will  presently  understand 
that  they  are  strictly  necessary." 

"  Then,  proceed,  monsieur,  proceed ;  look  into  the 
wardrobes,  under  my  bed,  behind  the  curtains,  and,  if 
you  wish  the  keys  of  the  commode  and  the  secretary,  ask 
for  them,  —  make  yourself  quite  at  home," 

The  unknown  profited  by  the  permission,  opening  the 
wardrobes,  looking  under  the  bed,  searching  behind  the 
curtains,  and  casting  a  scrutinizing  glance  at  the  two 
pieces  of  furniture  aforesaid,  to  assure  himself  that  they 
were  not  of  a  shape  to  conceal  a  lurking  listener;  but  as 
both  undoubtedly  seemed  too  restricted  to  be  employed 
for  such  a  purpose,  he  politely  declined  by  a  wave  of  his 
hand  the  keys  which  Roger  had  already  drawn  from  his 
pocket,  and  which,  upon  this  refusal,  he  replaced. 

"  Now,  monsieur  le  chevalier, "  said  the  unknown, 
"  now  that  I  am  quite  sure  that  we  are  alone,  I  have  the 


THE  CHEVALIER  RECEIVES  A  STRANGE  VISITOR.     195 

honor  to  beg  you  to  listen  to  me  seriously,  for  I  have  come 
to  speak  to  you  on  a  matter  of  the  highest  importance." 

"Good  or  bad?" 

"  Take  your  choice, "  answered  the  man  with  the 
warts;  "it  will  be  Avhat  you  make  it." 

And  he  went  to  the  door,  turned  the  key,  and  shot  the 
two  bolts. 

Roger  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  the  fauteuil  where  lay 
his  sword,  beginning  to  think,  like  the  Indian,  that  some 
one  might  have  been  despatched  to  do  him  an  ill  turn. 

The  man  with  the  warts  intercepted  the  glance, 
endeavored  to  reassure  Roger  at  once  by  smile  and  ges- 
tiire,  and  advanced  a  chair  to  the  fauteuil  in  which 
Roger  was  sitting. 

By  an  involuntary  movement,  Roger  pushed  back  his 
chair. 

The  stranger  remarked  this  second  movement,  as  he 
had  already  remarked  the  first,  and  indulged  in  a  hideous 
little  smile  as  if  to  say,  "  Yes,  yes,  I  see  indeed  that 
you  have  no  great  confidence  in  me;    but  wait  a  little." 

Roger  waited.  The  man  with  the  warts  cast  a  look 
around  him,  as  if  the  certainty  of  being  alone  with  the 
chevalier  could  not  satisfy  him,  and  bending  toward  his 
ear,  he  said,  — 

"  Monsieur,  have  you  any  repugnance  to  marriage  ?  " 

"  To  marriage  1  "  echoed  Roger,  with  stupefaction. 

"To  marriage,"  repeated  the  stranger,  wagging  his 
head  with  the  same  hideous  smile  that  seemed  habitual 
to  him. 

"  But  to  what  marriage  1  "  demanded  Roger. 

"  How  !  to  what  marriage  1   why,  a  real  marriage." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Roger;  "  but  pray  go  on." 

"  Then, "  said  the  stranger,  "  I  will  put  the  question 
differently." 


196  SYLVANDIRE. 

"Proceed,  monsieur." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  win  your  suit  1  " 

"  Ti'tehlvu!  I  should  say  so,"  cried  Roger,  "and  very 
mucli  indeed." 

"Well,  well,"  returned  the  man  with  tlie  warts, 
smiling  his  peculiar  smile,  "  we  shall  come  to  an. 
understanding." 

"Let  us  hear,"  said  Roger,  as  he  imparted  a  slight 
movement  to  his  fauteuil. 

"  Well,  monsieur, "  continued  the  unknown,  "  I  am 
the  man  that  can  put  you  in  a  way  to  win  that  suit  of 
yours.     Ah!" 

In  his  enthusiasm,  Roger  was  drawing  close  to  the 
man  with  the  hideous  smile,  and  seemed  as  if  ready  to 
put  his  arms  around  his  neck. 

Poor  human  nature,  which  thinks  it  has  sympathies 
and  antipathies,    and  has  only  interests! 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  demanded  Roger. 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  almost  nothing, "  replied  the  stranger. 

"But  Avhat?" 

"  You  must  marry." 

Roger  scanned  this  man  a  second  time,  hut  more  nar- 
rowly than  at  first,  and  he  began  to  conceive  the  idea 
that  he  had  to  do  with  a  lunatic. 

"  I  shall  be  fortunate  if  he  does  not  grow  violent, " 
thought  Roger. 

Then,  as  the  silence  was  prolonged,  Roger  having  con- 
tented himself  with  the  mental  observation,  and  this  re- 
sponse not  sufficing  the  man  with  the  warts,  the  latter 
demanded,  — 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  You  say,  then  —  "  hazarded  Roger. 

"  I  say.  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem,  that  you  must  marry." 

"  I  marry  1     I  ?  " 


THE  CHEVALIER  EECEIVES  A  STRANGE  VISITOR.      197 

"  You  yourself,  in  person ;  another  would  not  answer 
at  all !  " 

"  Come,  now,  you  are  jesting!  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

"  Had  I  the  honor  to  be  better  known  to  you, "  replied 
the  messenger  of  Hymen,  "  you  would  know,  monsieur, 
that  I  never  jest." 

"  Then,  the  question  becomes  serious  1  " 

"  Extremely  serious,  monsieur.  I  beg,  therefore,  that 
you  will  consider  it  from  that  point  of  view." 

"  And  so  I  must  marry  1  " 

"  Oh,  viou  Dieu  '  yes." 

"  And  whom  1  "  demanded  Roger  with  an  effort. 

"  Ah  !  whom  1  "  returned  the  man  with  the  warts,  with 
a  repetition  of  that  horrible  smile;  "ah!  whom?  There 
you  let  slip  the  great  question  !  " 

"  Certainly,  whom  1 "  repeated  Roger.  "  Do  you 
think,  indeed,  that  I  will  marry  with  my  head  in  a 
bag?" 

"  It  is  just  the  way  that  you  must  marry.  Monsieur 
d'Anguilhem." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  are  in  your  right  mind  ?  " 
demanded  Roger. 

"  What !     Am  I  quite  sure  ?  " 

"Yes;  because,  if  not,  as  the  joke  might  be  carried 
on  a  long  time  in  this  vein,  I  must  confess  that  I  am 
pressed  for  time.  I  have  an  engagement,  and  I  should 
like  at  once  to  terminate  the  game  we  are  playing." 

"  It  is  no  game ;  not  the  least  in  the  world,  monsieur, " 
replied  the  stranger  with  a  very  serious  air.  "  Or,  if  it 
is  a  game,  it  is  one,  at  least,  in  which  your  entire  future 
is  at  stake,  since  yon  can  win  fifteen  hundred  thousand 
livres. " 

"  Then,  for  God's  sake,  monsieur, "  returned  Roger, 
"  explain  yourself  more  clearly. " 


198  SYLVAN  DIRE. 

"  xVre  you  in  love  ?  "  demanded  the  man  with  the 
Avarts,  as  lie  fixed  upon  Koger  his  little  opaline  eyes, 
whose  regard  seemed  to  the  latter  literally  to  penetrate 
the  depths  of  his  soul. 

"  As  for  that, "  said  Koger,  blushing  deeply,  "  you  must 
excuse  me,  monsieur,  from  replying." 

"  Since  you  demand  that  I  respect  your  secret,  mon- 
sieur, "  retorted  the  unknown,  "  I  have  the  same  right  to 
demand  that  you  respect  mine." 

"  But  you,  — it  is  very  different." 

"  In  what  way  1  " 

"  You  should  tell  me,  me  especially  —  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  monsieur  le  chevalier,  you  are  the 
last  person  whom  I  should  tell.  However,  I  do  not 
forbid  your  guessing." 

"Ah!  that  is  vevy  kind;  thanks  for  the  permission, 
monsieur;  unfortunately,  I  am  not  good  at  enigmas." 

"  In  that  case,  it  is  a  study  that  you  should  enter  upon, 
since,  for  my  part,  I  can  only  repeat  what  I  have  already 
said." 

"  jNIonsieur, "  said  Roger,  rising,  "  you  understand  —  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  I  understand  that  you  are  a  disin- 
terested person, "  interrupted  the  stranger,  rising  also, 
"  and  it  matters  little  to  j'ou  whether  you  lose  or  win 
your  suit.  A  bagatelle,  after  all,  for  a  gentleman  like 
you,  — only  a  sum  of  fifteen  hundred  thousand  livres, 
more  or  less." 

"  Feste  /  "  exclaimed  Eoger,  "  a  bagatelle !  not  at  all, 
monsieur.  I  do  not  regard  it  in  that  light;  but,  frankly, 
just  consider  :  certainly  I  cannot  marry  thus,  —  it  is 
absurd !  " 

"  Monsieur,  monsieur, "  said  the  stranger  with  an  air 
of  profound  commiseration  for  Roger's  ignorance,  "  I  tell 
you  that  you  do  not  know  what  you  are  refusing. " 


THE  CHEVALIER  RECEIVES  A  STRANGE  VISITOR.     199 

"  But,  in  short,  monsieur,  if  I  should  consent  to  con- 
sider the  proposition,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  A  proposition  of  this  sort,  monsieur,  once  considered, 
must  be  carried  out." 

"  Then  it  is  a  positive  contract  that  you  require  1  " 

"  Positive. " 

"  And  I  agree  to  marry  —  " 

"  The  name  is  blank." 

"  This  is  not  common  sense." 

"  Yet  permit  —  " 

"  Xever,  monsieur,  never  !  " 

"  That  is  your  last  word  1  " 

"The  last,  —it  is  final." 

"  Keflect  again." 

"  I  have  reflected,  or  rather,  I  will  not  reflect  on  such 
an  absurdity.  I  to  marry  1  I,  without  knowing  whom, 
without  having  seen  my  intended,  without  having  spoken 
to  her,  without  knowing  whetlier  she  is  young  or  old, 
beautiful  or  ugly,  stupid  or  intellectual!  Come,  come, 
my  dear  man,   you  are  losing  your  head  !  " 

"  And  you,  your  suit,  monsieur !  " 

And  the  stranger  took  his  hat. 

This  devil  of  a  man  possessed  so  much  assurance  that 
Roger  was  disconcerted.  He  strode  about  the  room;  he 
paced  from  alcove  to  window,  from  door  to  commode,  and 
at  last  fell  back  into  his  arm-chair  with  a  stealthy  glance 
at  his  interlocutor,  who,  with  the  most  natural  manner 
in  the  world,  was  alternately  scratching  his  warts  and 
his  chin. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  the  first  to  break  the 
silence,  "  what !  monsieur,  do  you  absolutely  refuse  to 
give  me  even  the  least  information  1  " 

"  Upon  my  honor,  monsieur,  I  am  willing, "  answered 
the  stranger,  "  but  I  am  expressly  forbidden." 


200  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Only  tell  me  if  the  young  person  —  li'iu  !  "  broke  off 
Eoger,  "  —  but  is  she  young?  " 

The  unknown  continued  to  scratch  his  warts. 

"  Come,  —  is  she  beautiful  or  ugly  ?  " 

The  unknown  passed  from  his  warts  to  his  chin. 

"  Ikit  certainly  I  shall  be  permitted  to  inquire  whether 
my  fiancee  is  maid  or  widow." 

Tl'.e  unknown  remained  impassive. 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Koger,  striking  his  forehead,  "  it 
would  be  a  mad  thing  to  do!  " 

"  I  will  give  you  until  to-morrow,  monsieur,  to  reflect 
on  my  proposition, "  said  the  stranger. 

"  And  to-morrow?  " 

"  To-morrow  I  will  return  at  this  hour. " 

"  Alone  ?  " 

"No;  I  will  bring  the  contract  with  me." 

"  The  contract  1  " 

"  Oh,  that  binds  you  to  nothing, "  said  the  unknown ; 
"  you  will  not  sign  it  unless  you  like.  Be  tranquil,  my 
gentleman, "  added  he  with  his  habitual  smile,  "  you  will 
not  be  kidnapped." 

So  saying,  the  mysterious  man  backed  out,  bowing 
still  lower  than  he  had  done  on  entering,  and  when  he 
was  far  away,  Koger  still  sat,  dismayed,  his  brow,  humid 
with  perspiration,  held  between  his  hot  and  trembling 
hands. 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   MAN    AGAIN   APPEARS.        201 


XIV. 

HOW  THE  MTSTEKIOUS  MAX  APPEARS  A  SECOND 
TIME,  AND  HOW,  IN  THIS  SECOND  INTERVIEW, 
MATTERS    SEEM    A    LITTLE    CLEARER. 

Roger  remained  some  time  under  the  weight  of  the 
blow  that  had  just  been  dealt  him;  but  at  last,  gathering 
himself  together,  he  rose,  took  his  hat,  and  hastened  to 
the  Marquis  de  Crette,  his  staunch  support,  his  constant 
resovu'ce. 

Happily,  the  marquis  was  at  home. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  cried,  on  seeing  the 
chevalier.     "  Have  you  lost  your  suit  1  " 

The  marquis  put  this  question  to  the  chevalier,  so 
agitated  was  the  other's  countenance. 

"  No,  thank  God,  not  yet, "  answered  Roger.  "  The  de- 
cision is  to  be  rendered,  you  know,  in  three  days;  and  I 
even  —  " 

"  Even  what  1  "  repeated  the  marquis. 

"I  even  have  some  hope  of  winning,"  continued 
Roger  with  a  sigh. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  nothing  in  that  to  call 
for  such  a  sigh  as  you  have  just  given." 

"  Of  course  it  seems  so  to  you ;  you  know  nothing  of 
the  conditions." 

"  Ah  !  there  are  conditions  1  " 

"  Alas !  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

And  he  threw  himself  into  his  friend's  arms. 

"  Come,  speak, "  cried  the  marquis ;  "  you  really 
alarm  me." 


202  SYLVANDIRE. 

The  chevalier  then  told  tlie  marquis  of  his  interview 
with  the  man  of  the  opalhie  eyes,  Crette  listened  to  the 
recital  with  the  greatest  attention;  then,  when  the 
chevalier  had  ended,   he  exclaimed,  — 

"  This  is  a  queer  piece  of  business!  Is  it  some  bastard 
of  Bouzenois'  that  they  wish  to  provide  for,  — or,  grand 
Dlen !  my  poor  friend,   it  may  be  —  " 

"  May  be  what  %  "  cried  the  chevalier,  turning  pale  at 
the  marquis'  forebodings. 

"  It  may  be  that  the  old  begum  herself  thinks  of  mar- 
rying again." 

Roger  shivered  to  the  very  marrow  of  his  bones;  but 
one  reflection  reassured  him. 

"  Impossible,"  said  he;  "  she  is  dead." 

"  Then  it  is  improbable  that  you  have  anything  to  fear 
from  tliat  source." 

"  For  all  that, "  said  Roger,  "  I  have  known  of  people 
who  were  thought  dead,  but  they  came  back." 

"Ah!   mon  Dleu  !  "  ejaculated  the  marquis. 

"  However,"  continued  d'Anguilhem,  "  I  do  not  think 
it  is  so,  in  this  case." 

"  Then  let  us  seek  for  some  other  solution.  What  if  it 
were  a  snare  of  your  opponent's  ?     What  do  you  say  1  " 

"I  have  thought  of  that;  but  what  interest  could 
Monsieur  Afghano  have  in  getting  me  married  1  " 

We  forgot  to  say  that  the  Indian  answered  to  the 
name  of  Afghano. 

"  Ko  one  knows;  you  must  distrust  him  always." 

"Yes,  certainly  I  distrust  him;  but  my  distrust  will 
not  gain  me  a  day  longer.  To-morrow  I  must  give  an 
answer  of  some  sort." 

"  Consult  your  father." 

"  But  my  father  is  fifty  leagues  from  here ;  besides,  I 
must  confess,  marquis,  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  marry  in 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  MAN  AGAIN  APPEARS.   203 

such  a  way.  I  idolize  a  young  girl  in  my  part  of  the 
country,  a  love,  an  angel,  one  who  is  attached  to  me  with 
an  affection  equal  to  mine  for  her,  and  who  will  die  if  I 
marry  another." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  said  Crette,  putting  out  his  lips 
with  a  skeptical  air. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it;  I  have  her  word." 

"  As  to  dying  1  " 

"  No,  but  as  to  her  living  for  me  alone." 

And  then  Roger  related  to  the  marquis  all  his  adven- 
tures with  Constance,  but  without  pronouncing  the 
latter's  name. 

"  What  can  you  do,  my  dear  fellow?  After  that,  you 
have  no  chance  to  reflect.  Do  you  love  mademoiselle  — 
is  it  indiscreet  to  ask  mademoiselle's  name  1  " 

"No;  her  name  is  Constance  de  Beuzerie." 

"  The  deuce  !  the  first  name  is  suggestive,  I  admit. " 

"  You  were  asking  —  1  " 

"  I  was  asking  if  you  love  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie 
more  than  you  love  an  income  of  sixty  thousand  livres." 

"  If  I  had  but  myself  to  consider,  I  should  love  her 
more  than  fortune,  more  than  life,  more  than  all;  but 
unhappily  I  have  a  father  and  a  mother  who  worship  me 
and  whom   I   ruin  by  refusing." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right, "  said  Crette ;  "  there  lies  your 
real  obligation.  This,  my  dear  friend,  as  you  well  under- 
stand, is  a  question  of  conscience  that  you  alone  can  solve." 

Roger  gave  a  deep  sigh. 

For  his  part,  the  Marquis  de  Crette  became  silent  and 
relapsed  into  a  long  reverie ;  then,  of  a  sudden,  he  seized 
Roger's  hand  with  a  movement  so  brusque  as  to  startle 
the  latter. 

"  You  are  a  thrice-lost  man  !  "  he  declared.  "  I  divine 
the  source  of  these  propositions." 


204  SYLVAXDIRE. 

"  All !  "  cxcliiimed  Roger  in  affright, 

"  Tlie  gcntlonian  willi  tlie  wtirts  is  some  juilge,  some 
associate,  some  tip-stull",  with  a  hunch-backed  daugliter,  and 
he  feels  the  need  of  establishing  her  advantageously." 

"  Marquis,  I  entreat  you  not  to  say  such  things ;  you 
make  my  flesh  creep." 

"  My  dear,  one  must  speak  the  truth  to  one's  friends!  " 

"  Alas !  "  groaned  Koger. 

"  However, "  pursued  the  marquis,  "  speak  of  it  to  your 
fatlier,  and  ask  his  opinion,  but,  in  my  mind,  there  is  no 
doubt  on  the  subject." 

"  There  might  be  still  another  case !  "  responded  the 
victim,  dwelling  on  each  word  with  a  lamentable  accent. 
"  It  might  be  that  one  of  these  gentlemen  whom  you  have 
just  mentioned  has  a  daughter  who  —  " 

"I  thought  of  that,"  replied  Crette,  "but  I  did  not 
like  to  say  it.  Of  the  two  defects,  Avhich  would  you 
prefer  ?  As  for  me,  I  confess  that  I  should  choose  the 
incurable  deformity." 

"  It  is  a  horrible  trap,"  cried  Roger,  in  a  rage. 

"  You  must  decide,  however, "  said  the  marquis ;  "  there 
is  no  middle  course.  It  is  a  matter  of  losing  your  suit, 
or  of  leaping  into  a  gulf  blindfold." 

"  Alas  !     Alas !  "  reiterated  Roger. 

"  My  poor  friend, "  said  Crette,  whom  the  chevalier's 
situation  touched,  even  to  tears,  "  you  are  in  a  trap ;  but 
you  need  not  give  up  all  hope  before  the  second  visit. 
Take  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  when  you  get  hold  of 
that  devil  of  a  man,  to  turn  him  inside  out;  demand 
information;  insist  on  knowing  the  necessity.  If  he 
refuses  you,  do  you  refuse  him.  I  will  be  concealed  at 
the  door,  I  will  follow  the  demon  even  to  hell,  and  we 
shall  at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of  getting  our  revenge, 
I  will  answer  for  that. " 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   MAN   AGAIN   APPEARS.        205 

"  Yes,  but  I  shall  lose  my  suit." 

"  All !  pshaw !  what  of  that  1  You  cannot  have  every- 
thing." 

As  all  that  the  chevalier  and  the  marquis  could  sug- 
gest in  no  way  advanced  matters,  Roger  took  his  way 
back  to  his  hotel,  and  re-entered  The  Golden  Harrow. 

Roger  then  sat  down  to  write  to  his  father;  but  lie 
reflected  that  a  letter  required  four  days  to  go  to  Loches 
and  four  to  return,  which  made  eight  days,  supposing 
even  that  the  baron  answered  by  return  post.  Now, 
judgment  was  to  be  rendered  within  three  days;  it 
was  therefore,  literally  impossible  to  receive  a  seasonable 
answer  from  Anguilhem.  The  poor  fellow,  however, 
indeed  needed  an  impulse  from  his  father  in  order  to 
come  to  any  decision. 

He  remained  then,  confronting  himself,  shedding  bitter 
tears,  his  hands  plucking  at  his  hair,  despairing  of  the 
future,  and  calling  aloud  upon  Constance,  La  Pintade, 
La  Guerite,  the  woods  of  Garenne,  upon  all  the  memo- 
ries, in  short,  of  his  youth;  and  then  he  reproached  him- 
self with  his  unsophisticated  foolishness,  and  admired  the 
profound  speeches  of  the  marquis,  when  the  latter,  lis- 
tening to  Roger's  narration  of  his  pastoral  amours  at 
Beuzerie,  the  apparition  of  Constance  in  Roger's  room, 
and  the  flight  of  both  to  La  Chapelle  Saint-Hippolyte, 
had  cried,  — 

"  How  unsophisticated  you  were,  d 'Anguilhem  !  How 
artless  you  were,  my  handsome  Roger !  —  ah,  but  you 
were  silly,  my  poor  friend  !  " 

And  Roger  repeated,  — 

"Ah  yes,  I  was  very  silly;  yes,  I  was  very  artless; 
yes,  yes,  I  was  very  unsophisticated !  " 

It  can  be  seen  that  his  sojourn  in  Paris  began  to 
operate  efficaciously  upon  Roger. 


206  SYLVANDIKE. 

But  necessity  was  there,  stretching  out  lier  ruthless 
hand,  armed  with  its  gads  of  iron.  Every  minute  was 
worth  a  day,  every  day  had  the  importance  of  a  year. 
On  tlie  morrow  would  return  the  man  witli  tlie  warts,  as 
inexorahlo  as  time,  as  punctual  as  death. 

Roger  spent  the  night  in  seeking  a  way  to  extricate 
himself  from  his  position  ;  needless  to  say,  he  found  none. 

The  day  came.  Armed  with  a  mass  of  new  i)roposi- 
tions,  an  arsenal  of  insidious  questions,  Roger  awaited  tlie 
man  with  the  warts. 

The  man  did  not  keep  him  waiting  long.  At  tlie  very 
hour,  the  very  minute,  the  very  second  designated,  Roger, 
who  sat  with  listening  ear,  heard  the  sound  of  his  step  on 
the  stairs ;  then  at  last,  at  the  Avords,  "  Come  in  !  "  pro- 
nounced by  Roger  with  trembling  voice,  the  door  opened^ 
and  the  fatal  emissary  entered,  humbler,  blander,  more 
obsequious  than  he  had  been  on  the  day  before. 

With  a  sweeping  glance  around,  his  eyes  took  in  the 
whole  room. 

"  You  are  quite  alone  1 "  he  asked. 

"Look  for  yourself,"  d'Anguilhem  answered. 

The  unknown  renewed  his  inspection  with  the  same 
minuteness  of  detail  that  he  had  employed  on  the  former 
occasion;  then,  his  inspection  concluded,  he  approached 
Roger,  who  was  sitting  in  his  chair,  as  pale  as  a  con- 
demned man  exposed  upon  a  scaffold. 

"  Well,  monsieur  le  chevalier,"  said  the  mysterious 
man,    "  have  you  reflected  1  " 

"  I  have  done  more,  indeed,  "  answered  Roger,  "  I  have 
made  a  guess,  monsieur;  and  so,  let  us  speak  frankly, 
and  make  an  end  of  the  matter  with  the  present 
interview." 

"It  is  my  most  ardent  wish,  monsieur, "  replied  the 
unknown. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  MAN  AGAIN  APPEARS.   207 

"  You  are  sent  by  some  one  that  wislies  to  get  rid  of 
his  daughter." 

"  To  get  rid  of  1  Oh !  monsieur,  that  is  a  harsh 
expression." 

"  Let  us  not  cavil  at  the  phrase,  —  I  am,  unfortunately, 
but  too  certain  that  it  is  the  correct  one." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  would  undertake  to  change  your 
opinion." 

"Now,  this  father  is  one  of  my  judges,  is  he  not?  " 
asked  Eogcr,  gazing  steadily  into  the  changeable  eyes  of 
the  man  with  the  warts. 

The  stranger  stared  at  Roger,  in  his  turn,  and  Avith  a 
degree  of  surprise  bordering  upon  amazement. 

"  Faith  !  yes,  monsieur,  you  have  guessed  it." 

"  Ah !  I  knew  it,  indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Eoger,  tri- 
umphantly. 

"Well,  and  what  then?" 

"  It  leads  me  to  conclude  that  I  shall  lose  my  suit  if  I 
do  not  espouse  her." 

"  And  also  to  the  certainty  that  you  will  win  if  you  do 
espouse  her." 

"  It  is  very  sad, "  said  Roger. 

"  Ah  !  monsieur, "  said  the  stranger,  "  you  do  wrong  to 
complain;  you  are  on  the  high  road  to  fortune.  Go 
ahead,  chevalier,  go  ahead, — that  is  all  I  have  to 
say." 

"  Yes,  and  I,  a  gentleman,  against  whose  honor  not  a 
breath  can  be  whispered,  I  shall  have  married  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  man  that  sells  justice." 

"  Oh !  you  look  at  the  matter  from  a  deplorable  stand- 
ing-point, INIonsieur  d' Anguilhem, "  replied  the  unknown  ; 
"  your  point  of  vieAV  is  absurd,  if  you  will  permit  me  to 
say  so  !  A  man  that  has  influence  makes  use  of  it;  he 
serves  his  friends,  and  the  law  of  gratitude,  which  in  the 


208  SYLVANDIKE. 

law  of  fine  natures,  being  granted,  his  friends,  in  their 
turn,  do  liim  a  service  in  exchange  for  his  kind  ollices." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  indeed;  but  tlie  demoiselle?  " 

"  Well,  the  demoiselle  1  " 

"  The  demoiselle  —  is  she  a  demoiselle  1  " 

The  stranger  chuckled. 

"  Or  a  widow  1  "  continued  d'Anguilhem. 

The  stranger  chuckled  still  more. 

"  The  devil !  monsieur, "  cried  the  chevalier  in  a  rage, 
"  I  believe  you  are  mocking  me. " 

"God  forbid,  chevalier;  but  I  laugh  at  j'our  appre- 
hensions." 

"  Which  are  groundless,  perhaps, "  returned  d'Anguil- 
hem, "  when  I  am  required  to  buy  a  pig  in  a  poke  !  " 

"  Your  surprise  will  be  the  pleasanter,  Monsieur 
d'Anguilhem." 

"  Ah!  I  know  how  to  be  satisfied  as  to  that,  monsieur. 
Only  let  me  see  the  demoiselle  —  the  young  person  —  the 
person  I  am  to  marry  —  the  lady  in  question,  in  short." 

"  Impossible,  monsieur,  impossible." 

"  But  come,  —  the  father,  then,  —  let  me  see  the  father. 
That  is  not  asking  too  much,  eh  1  " 

"On  the  contrary,  monsieur,  it  is  asking  everything. 
Having  seen  the  father,  within  twenty-four  hours  you  will 
know  who  is  the  daughter." 

"  You  will  drive  me  mad  !  "  exclaimed  d'Anguilhem. 

"  Come,  monsieur  le  chevalier,"  remonstrated  the  man 
with  the  warts,  speaking  in  his  most  honeyed  tones,  "  do 
not  thus  excite  yourself.  The  transaction  is  an  honest  one, 
believe  me,  and  you  will  repent  having  raised  difficulties, 
for,  in  giving  way  to  all  these  petty  considerations,  which, 
I  see  with  regret,  have  a  ridiculous  importance  in  your 
estimation,  you  are  in  a  fair  way  to  lose  a  fortune  of  fif- 
teen hundred  thousand  livres  and  a  case  that  entails  from 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  MAN  AGAIN  APPEARS.    209 

thirty  to  forty  thousand  livres  of  costs;  -while  in  marrying 
you  are  assured  of  your  million  and  a  half,  plus  furniture 
worth  sixty  thousand  crowns,  jewels  and  precious  stones 
worth  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  livres, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  money  in  the  strong  hox, —  and  the 
box  is  heavy,  I  can  answer  for  it;  I  was  present  when 
they  put  on  the  seals." 

'^Ah,  ga  !  ansAver  one  question." 

"  Proceed,  monsieur,  proceed,  and  if  I  am  at  liberty  to 
answer,  I  will  do  so." 

"  How  does  it  happen,"  said  Koger,  "  that  my  would- 
be  father-in-law  did  not  offer  his  daughter  to  Monsieur 
Afghano,  my  adversary  %  " 

"  Because  he  wished  to  give  you  the  preference." 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  him !  " 

"  Then,  the  Indian  is  ugly,  and  you  are  a  handsome 
fellow;  then,  too,  your  adversary  may  be  a  very  great 
lord  in  his  own  country,  but  here  his  nobility  is  not 
recognized;  in  short,  the  name  of  d'Anguilhem  sounds 
better  to  French  ears  than  the  rather  barbarous  one  of 
Afghano.  Madame  Afghano!  you  understand,  —  how 
could  that  be  announced  at  court?  However,  if  you 
refuse  to-day  —  " 

"  Well,  if  I  refuse  to-day  ? " 

"  I  shall  go  to  Monsieur  Afghano  to-morrow." 

"  "Why,  the  father  is  determined,  then,  to  establish  his 
daughter  ?  " 

"  She  is  old  enough  to  be  settled." 

"  Ah !  yes,  I  believe  it.  In  short,  I  am  chosen  for  the 
sacrifice." 

"I  repeat,  monsieur,  that  you  are  wrong,  and  your 
words  are  those  of  a  page.  You  are  given  fifteen  hun- 
dred thousand  livres;  they  are  laid  in  your  hand;  for 
that  purpose  you  are  run  to  earth  in  the  worst  room  of  a 

14 


210  SYLVANDIRE. 

bad  hotel,  and  j'ou  call  yourself  a  sacrifice  !  Ah !  really, 
you  wear  me  out." 

"  Well,  monsieur,  let  us  come  to  terms,"  said  d'Anguil- 
heni.  "  Does  the  one  who  sent  you  wish  a  hundred,  or 
two  hundred,  or  three  hundred  thousand  livres?  I  con- 
cede tliem,  I  offer  tliem,  I  give  tliem  to  him!  " 

"  This  proposition  of  yours  is  not  common  sense,  cheva- 
lier. Tlie  hundred  thousand  crowns  that  you  are  offering 
are  not  yours  to  give;  they  form  your  wife's  dower." 

"  What !  my  wife's  dower  1  " 

"  Eh !  yes.  On  marrying  the  young  girl,  you  settle  a 
hundred  thousand  crowns  on  her;  that  is  very  natural, 
it  appears  to  me,  when  the  father  has  made  you  the  win- 
ner of  fifteen  hundred  thousand  livres." 

"  You  said  '  the  young  girl, '  monsieur  !  "  cried  the 
chevalier ;  "  ah !  you  said  it ;  the  demoiselle  is  young, 
then?" 

"  You  lucky,  lucky  d'Anguilhem !  accept,  I  advise  you, 
accept !  " 

"  Listen :  you  know  me ;  I  live  in  open  daylight.  There 
is  no  mystery  about  me,  and  I  play  with  my  cards  on  the 
table." 

"  Well,  may  you  play  a  fine  game  to  the  end  !  " 

"  I  ask  nothing  better ;  but  I  need  some  evidence  of 
your  credit,  a  proof  of  your  influence." 

"What?" 

"  Delay  for  eight  days  the  judgment  to  be  pronounced 
on  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  in  exchange  for  this  as- 
surance I  will  pledge  you  my  word  on  two  conditions." 

"Which  are  — ?" 

"  That  the  girl  shall  not  be  deformed,  and  shall  not, 
or,  rather,  she  shall  —  " 

"  I  understand,  chevalier." 

"  Well  1 " 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   MAN   AGAIN   APPEARS.        211 

"Agreed." 

"  To  what  1  —  you  will  guarantee  —  " 

"Yes." 

"  In  that  case,  you  have  my  word." 

"  In  ten  days,  then  1 " 

"In  ten  days." 

"  I  shall  be  here  on  the  morning  on  which  the  decision 
is  rendered." 

"I  shall  expect  you." 

"  Very  well,  chevalier,  very  well.  Ah !  you  were  bom 
under  a  lucky  star.  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem  !  " 

And  the  man  with  the  warts  took  his  hat  and  backed 
out  of  the  room,  bowing  more  humbly  than  ever. 

Five  minutes  later  he  returned  in  alarm. 

"  Monsieur, "  he  cried,  "  perhaps  you  thought  to  save 
yourself  by  a  bold  stroke,  and  for  that  purpose  stationed 
your  friend,  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  in  ambush  in  his 
carriage  twenty  steps  from  the  door  of  the  hotel;  do  not 
deny  it.  I  recognized  the  livery  and  the  coat  of  arms ;  but 
you  are  making  a  mistake,  be  assured  of  that.  The  delay 
accorded  is  a  guaranty  to  us  as  well  as  to  you.  If,  in  the 
interval,  anything  of  our  projects  should  be  noised  abroad, 
if  anything  transpires  of  any  nature  whatever,  if  any 
sort  of  proceeding  on  your  part  gives  us  umbrage,  I, 
the  sole  witness, —  pray  understand,  the  sole  one,^ 
will  deny  everything,  and  you  will  lose  your  suit  in 
disgrace. " 

Roger  was  astounded  at  this  new  threat,  which  cor- 
responded so  well  with  his  secret  intentions ;  for,  as 
we  have  said,  he  had  conspired  with  the  marquis  to 
unravel  the  mystery  and  to  visit  upon  his  tormentors  the 
annoyance  which  they  had  inflicted  upon  him. 

However,  on  finding  his  plans  discovered,  he  fell  back, 
disheartened. 


212  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  What  must  Le  iloue,  monsieur,  tluit  you  may  be  sat- 
isfied 1  "  he  demaiuled  of  the  unknown. 

"  Descend  first,  monsieur,"  replied  tlie  latter,  "  and 
when  I  have  seen  you  depart  with  the  marquis,  I,  too, 
will  go  away." 

Koger  put  on  liis  hat  and  obeyed  with  a  crestfallen  air, 
followed,  a  flight  of  stairs  behind,  by  the  mysterious 
man. 

He  found  Crett^  impatiently  waiting  in  his  carriage. 
He  warned  him  that  he  was  discovered,  and  they  were 
together  driven  to  the  Luxembourg,  where  they  con- 
versed a  long  time. 

Meanwhile,  the  man  with  the  warts  went  his  own 
mysterious  way. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  do  now, "  the  marquis  told  the 
chevalier,  "  unless,  very  quietly,  to  set  on  foot  some  in- 
quiries, in  order  to  engage  your  mind  somewhat,  and  by 
preparation  to  deaden  the  blow  which  cannot  be  avoided. 
After  all,  my  dear  chevalier,  assume  tliat  the  thing  is 
done,  and  that  you  have  made  a  bad  match.  On  the 
other  hand,  you  can  easily  console  yourself  on  looking 
around  and  seeing  by  how  many  other  queer  households 
you  are  surrounded. " 

"  Yes,  but  the  wives  have  entered  those  households  in 
the  usual  manner,  while  I  —  I  am  being  hunted  down  in 
fine  shape  !     Good  Lord  !  what  will  all  ovir  friends  say  1  " 

"  They  will  know  nothing  about  it;  you  do  not  intend 
to  speak  of  it,  do  you  ?  " 

"God  forbid!" 

"  Well,  it  is  not  likely  that  your  father-in-law  will  for 
his  part  boast  of  his  novel  invention  for  lighting  Hymen's 
torch." 

"  Alas  !  have  you  not  yourself  more  than  once  told  me 
that  everything  is  known  in  Paris  1  " 


THE   MYTERIOUS   MAN   AGAIN   APPEARS.         213 

"  Everything  is  known,  or  nearly  so ;  but  a  tiling  can 
be  concealed  if  one  is  bent  upon  it.  Besides,  a  pistol  is 
at  your  head,  and  you  must  escape  either  by  the  door  or 
by  the  window,  as  they  say.  Recall  your  studies  among 
the  Jesuits  of  Amboise,  and  since  you  have  taken  a 
course  in  philosophy,  why,  my  dear  fellow,  be  a 
philosopher." 

"Ah,  marquis!  that  is  a  very  easy  thing  for  you  to 
say.  Come,  be  frank  —  would  you  make  this  marriage  1 
Answer!  " 

"  I,  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  possessing  an  income  of 
sixty  thousand  livres,  as  I  do,  without  counting  my 
mother's  property,  —  no,  I  confess,  I  would  not  marry 
this  girl  without  seeing  her;  but  if  I  were  Roger  Tan- 
cr^de  d'Anguilhem,  and  I  must,  in  case  of  refusal,  die 
of  hunger,  I  would  marry  Alecto  herself,  possibly  separat- 
ing from  her  afterwards,  or,  the  opportunity  offering, 
breaking  a  bed-post  over  her  back." 

"  You  are  speaking  sincerely  ?  " 

"  On  the  word  of  a  gentleman !  " 

"  But,  reflect,  —  I  am  in  love." 

"  That  is  always  folly ;  but,  in  your  case,  it  is  a 
misfortune. " 

"  But  think  of  it !     I  shall  lose  Constance  !  " 

"  Nonsense !  Only  mountains  never  meet,  and  some 
day  you  and  Mademoiselle  Constance  will  meet." 

"  She  will  lose  faith  in  my  loyalty. " 

"  You  will  explain  matters." 

"  She  will  curse  me. " 

"  Ah  !  in  that  case,  the  wrong  will  all  be  hers,  and 
she  will  be  unreasonable." 

"  She  will  not  believe  it  possible  that  I  could  have 
resolved  to  be  so  unfaithful." 

"  You   will    say    that    your   father   was    responsible, 


214  SYLVANDIRE. 

and  slie  will  think  it  was  Anguilliem's  revenge  on 
Beuzeiie." 

"  But  she  too  will  marry." 

"  So  niucli  the  Letter  for  you,  my  dear  fellow !  so 
much  the  better  !  In  the  first  place,  you  will  not  have 
it  on  your  conscience  that  you  have  caused  her  to  remain 
single.  Then,  once  she  is  married  as  well  as  you,  others 
will  forget  your  little  romance.  You  will  go  into  tlie 
country,  you  will  hunt  with  her  husband,  you  will  in- 
vite him  to  dinner;  while  he  is  paying  compliments  to 
your  wife,  you  will  be  talking  over  old  times  with  his. 
However  he  speeds,  you  will  always  have  the  advantage 
of  taking  up  the  affair  just  where  you  left  off." 

"  Ah !  if  Madame  de  Maintenon  were  to  hear  you,  my 
dear  Crette." 

"  She  would  think  herself  forty  years  younger,  that  is 
all." 

The  two  friends  arose  to  go  and  pursue  their  inquiries. 


HOW   THE   JUDGMENT  WAS   GIVEN.  215 


XV. 

HOW   THE   JUDGMENT    WAS    GIVEN. 

The  chevalier  and  the  marquis  spent  the  next  three  days 
in  running  about.  Valets  talked,  concierges  talked,  the 
very  clerks  of  the  court  themselves  opened  their  mouths, 
so  adroit  were  the  ruses  and  ingenious  the  methods  em- 
ployed by  the  two  friends  in  order  to  learn  what  they 
wished  to  know. 

However,  after  all  their  inquiries,  they  found  that 
twelve  judges  and  sixty  councillors  had  marriageable 
daughters,  so  that  after  all  their  research,  Roger  and  the 
marquis  were  but  little  further  along  than  when  they 
started. 

There  were,  moreover,  certain  of  these  damsels  whom 
the  chevalier  held  in  dread,  as  they  could  by  no  means  be 
regarded  as  prizes.  One  had  been  surprised  at  night  in  a 
half-ruined  cloister  back  of  the  Rue  Saint  Benoit. 

Another  had  made  a  journey  into  Picardy,  without 
either  her  father  or  her  mother,  and  there  were  very  ugly 
rumors  that  her  cousin,  the  musketeer,  had  brought  her 
back. 

A  third,  indeed,  had  been  recognized,  it  was  said,  in  a 
fiacre,  at  Marly,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  leaving 
the  notorious  inn  with  the  sign  of  The  Golden  Calf. 

Nothing  went  to  prove  that  the  demoiselle  he  was  to 
marry  was  one  of  these  three;  but  there  was  nothing  to 
prove  that  she  was  not  one  of  them.  As  a  result,  Roger 
remained  plunged  in  the  deepest  perplexity. 


216  SYLVANDIRE. 

In  the  meantime,  lie  learned  that,  in  accordance  with 
the  desire  that  he  liad  expressed  to  the  mysterious  man, 
the  judgment  was  to  be  postponed  eight  days.  It  was  to 
him  a  significant  mark  of  his  persecutors'  good  will 
toward  him,  as  well  as  of  their  iniluence  in  connection 
with  the  courts  of  justice. 

On  the  eighth  day  after  he  had  written,  that  is,  two 
days  before  a  decision  would  be  rendered,  he  received  a 
letter  from  Anguilhem. 

The  baron  had  been  sparing  of  neither  ink  nor  paper, 
for  the  letter  contained  eight  large  pages.  He  announced 
to  the  chevalier  that  he  would  himself  have  come  to  Paris, 
had  not  lack  of  money  detained  him  at  his  chateau.  He 
deplored  the  fatal  necessity  that  weighed  upon  his  dear 
son,  and  he  left  him  absolutely  free  to  act  according  to 
the  dictates  of  his  understanding  or  of  his  heart;  which 
seemed  to  Roger  to  be  a  touch  of  the  most  exquisite 
paternal  delicacy,  and  which,  amid  a  thousand  sobs, 
caused  him  to  adopt  the  cruel  resolution  of  renouncing 
Constance  to  secure  the  happiness  of  his  parents. 

"Do  not  be  influenced  by  consideration  for  us,"  wrote 
the  baron  in  this  model  letter.  "  You  are  young,  Roger, 
and  you  have  long  years  to  live;  do  not  sadden  your 
entire  existence  for  the  sake  of  easing  the  remainder  of 
ours.  This  suit  will  have  ruined  us,  your  mother  and 
me,  —  but,  what  matter !  we  are  used  to  privations. 
Besides,  you  have  strength,  good  will,  powerful  friends; 
you  will  obtain  employment  which  will  admit  of  your 
assisting  us  a  little  until  our  deaths,  which  now  cannot 
be  very  far  distant." 

Roger  went  no  further.  He  wiped  his  eyes,  bowed  his 
head  with  reverence,  and  when  in  due  season  the  man 
with  the  warts  arrived  at  his  apartment,  the  chevalier 
said,  — 


HOW   THE    JUDGMENT    WAS    GIVEN.  217 

"  Monsieur,  I  am  ready ;  what  have  you  for  me  to 
sign  ?  " 

"  This, "  said  the  emissary,  drawing  from  liis  pocket,  and 
displaying,  a  paper  covered  with  writing. 

"  Very  well, "  said  Roger. 

And  he  signed  without  reading. 

"  Pardieu  /  monsieur, "  said  the  man  with  the  warts, 
"  you  are  a  straightforward  gentleman,  and  however 
slow  you  are  to  decide,  you  at  least  act  magnificently 
when  you  have  made  up  your  mind.  That  generous 
oversight  will  cost  you  nothing;  read,  however." 

With  terrible  anguish,  Eoger  read,  trembling  at  every 
line  lest  he  should  encounter  the  name  of  one  of  the 
three  redoubtable  damsels;  but  he  had  the  good  fortune 
to  see  another  name. 

This  paper  was  a  document  imposing  the  obligation  to 
marry  Mademoiselle  Christine  Sylvandire  Bouteau,  sole 
daughter  of  Maitre  Jean  Amedee  Bouteau,  conseUler- 
rapporteur  of  the  King's  High  Parliament,  and  contain- 
ing an  aknowledgment  to  the  said  Christine  Sylvandire 
Bouteau,  of  a  dot  of  one  hundred  thousand  crowns,  paid 
on  the  day  on  which  the  very  noble  and  very  honorable 
Eoger  Tancrede  d'Anguilhem  won  his  suit-at-law  against 
the  Sieur  Afghano,  the  stepson  of  the  late  Vicomte  de 
Bouzenois. 

Maitre  Jean  Amedee  Bouteau  was  that  austere  coun- 
cillor who  would  receive  neither  Roger  nor  Afghano; 
the  one  that  had  no  cat  to  which  one  could  offer  jewels, 
nor  an  ape  on  which  one  could  bestow  surreptitious  dona- 
tions, nor  a  parrot  on  which  one  could  settle  a  life 
annuity.     But  he  had  a  marriageable  daughter. 

"  Is  she  very  ugly,  monsieur  %  "  demanded  Roger. 

"  T  have  orders  to  reply  to  none  of  your  questions, 
Monsieur  le  Chevalier.     Make  your  toilet,  follow  me  to 


218  SYLVANDIRE. 

the  Palais,  be  present  at  the  judgment  to  be  rendered  in 
two  hours,  and  I  sliall  have  the  lionor  to  conduct  you 
thereafter  to  the  hotel  of  Monsieur  Bouteau,  your  father- 
in-law.  " 

"  For  what  purpose  1  "  cried  Roger,  with  an  impulse  of 
terror  which  interfered  with  his  comprehending  the  in- 
congruity of  the  question. 

"  Why,  to  return  tlianks,  in  the  first  place,  for  the 
possession  from  that  moment  of  something  like  a  million 
and  a  half  more  than  you  now  have,  and  next  to  salute 
your  alhanced." 

The  chevalier's  legs  failed  him. 

"  My  father  will  be  saved,  and  my  mother  will  die  in 
peace  at  Anguilhem, "  he  murmured,  falling  into  an  arm- 
chair. 

"  Come,  come, "  said  the  man  with  the  warts,  "  I  see 
indeed  that  you  need  to  be  alone  in  order  to  compose 
yourself ;  you  shall  go  your  own  way  to  the  Palais,  and  I 
will  go  mine." 

And  the  man  with  the  warts  took  his  departure 
cavalierly  enough,  this  time.  Roger  noticed  the  differ- 
ence in  his  manner. 

"  It  is  to  be  expected, "  said  he.  "  He  is  now  sure  of 
the  matter.     I  have  signed  my  own  sentence." 

And,  as  Maitre  Bouteau's  envoy  had  suggested,  he 
began  his  toilet. 

Koger  felt  death  in  his  heart.  He  detested  in  advance 
the  woman  he  was  going  to  see,  and  yet,  by  a  prompt- 
ing of  the  vanity  inherent  in  the  heart  of  man,  he  did 
not  wish  his  first  interview  to  give  her  a  bad  impression 
of  his  face  and  figure. 

He  donned  a  black  velvet  coat  frogged  with  gold,  and 
a  white  satin  waistcoat  whose  seams  were  covered  with 
rich  embroidery.    He  then  sent  a  messenger  for  the  Mar- 


HOW   THE   JUDGMENT   WAS    GIVEN.  219 

quis  de  Crette,  who  soon  arrived  in  his  most  magnificent 
equipage. 

Behind  this  carriage  followed  the  coaches  of  d'ller- 
bigny,  Chastellux,  and  Clos-Renaud.  Mademoiselle  Pous- 
sette  brought  up  the  rear  in  a  reraise. 

The  marquis  ascended  to  Roger's  apartment  alone. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  the  marquis,  the  chevalier  extended 
his  arms,  crying, — 

"Alas!  alas!  alas!" 

"  The  sacrifice,  then,  is  made  1  " 

"  Made  and  executed, "  was  Roger's  response.  "  I  have 
signed.     Poor  Constance  !  " 

"  And  have  you  any  new  intelligence  of  your  affianced  1 " 
hesitatingly  inquired  the  marquis. 

"  Her  name  is  Sylvandire." 

"  Ah !  the  devil !  a  charming  name ;  that  is  already 
something.  But  that  is  only  her  baptismal  name ;  what 
is  her  family  name  ?  " 

"Bouteau." 

"  The  daughter  of  our  councillor !  "  cried  the  marquis. 

"  The  same, "  said  Roger.  "  Alas !  it  is  some  little 
monster  tliat  he  has  concealed  from  all  eyes,  and  of 
whom  he  unburdens  himself  in  ray  favor." 

"  Or  in  favor,  rather,  of  your  barony.  I  have  occa- 
sionally met  Maitre  Bouteau." 

"  And  what  sort  of  man  is  my  father-in-law  ?  " 

"  A  Jew  grafted  on  an  Arab ;  enormously  rich,  besides, 
according  to  all  accounts." 

"  And,  in  spite  of  his  wealth, "  cried  Roger,  "  he  is 
driven  to  employing  such  means  to  establish  his  daughter ! 
Ah  !  my  friend,  my  friend,  nothing  but  filial  devotion  —  " 

"  True ;  Cleobis  and  Biton  were  not  to  be  compared 
with  us,  chevalier,  in  my  opinion ;  but  we  must  not  stay 
here  lamenting,  let  us  go  to  the  Palais.     If  your  wife  is 


220  SYLVANDIRE. 

too  —  queer,  wliy,  you  can  put  her  in  one  corner  of  tlie 
house  with  servants  of  her  own,  and  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  licr  maintenance.  You  will  sulFer  the  aflliction 
of  her  bearing  your  name,  that  is  all ;  and  with  the  other 
fourteen  hundred  thousand  livres  that  remain,  —  well, 
you  will  find  enjoyment  elsewhere.  You  have  read  the 
contract  carefully  ?  There  was  nothing  of  your  being 
forced  —  " 

"  Xo." 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  to  be  pitied  then  ! 
Come,  come,  we  must  be  off." 

And  Crette  preceded  d'Anguilhem,  who  went  to  the 
doors  of  their  carriages  to  salute  d'Herbigny,  Clos- 
Eenaud,  Chastellux,  and  Mademoiselle  Poussette,  one 
after  the  other,  and  who  then  entered  the  coach  of  the 
marquis. 

They  reached  the  Palais;  a  crowd  was  assembled. 
The  begum's  son  had  decided  to  be  present  at  the  de- 
nouement of  this  long  drama.  It  was  supposed  that  he 
must  have  dispensed  nearly  fifty  thousand  livres  in  mak- 
ing himself  agreeable  to  the  judges.  He  was  so  beaming 
of  aspect  that  Roger  lacked  little  of  fainting,  and  Crette 
became  quite  pale. 

The  judges  were  in  the  next  room;  they  were  in 
consultation. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour's  deliberation  the  chamber  was  in 
session.  Koger  recognized  his  three  judges,  and  trembled; 
behind  them  modestly  came  the  conseiller-rapjyorteur. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  conseiller-ra2)2:>orteur  ?  " 
Roger  timidly  asked  his  neighbor. 

"  IMaitre  Bouteau, "  answered  the  latter ;  "  a  very 
worthy  man." 

Roger  endeavored  to  read  the  face  of  Maitre  Bouteau; 
but  it  was  impossible. 


now    THE    JUDGMENT    WAS    GIVEN.  221 

The  judges  took  their  places  with  the  grave  aspect 
characteristic  of  those  gentlemen,  permitted  the  judicial 
regard,  fixing  upon  nothing,  to  wander  around  the  hall, 
and  Maitre  Bouteau  unfolded  a  paper. 

"  Courage  !  "  said  Crette,  leaning  toward  the  cheva- 
lier's ear;  "  it  is  our  father-in-law." 

"  I  am  aware  of  it, "  returned  Roger, 

Maitre  Bouteau  coughed,  spat,  and.  read  as  follows :  — 

"  Whereas,  The  Sieur  Afghano,  a  native  of  India,  has 
been  unable  to  produce  the  document  that  he  should  have 
tendered  the  tribunal,  and  there  exists  no  authentic  proof  of 
his  right  to  the  succession :  and 

"  Whereas,  The  Sieur  Baron  Tancrfede  Palamfede  d'Anguil- 
hem,  represented  by  his  son,  Roger  Tancrfede  d'Anguilheni, 
is  the  next  of  kin  to  the  deceased,  and  has  presented  docu- 
ments in  due  form  establishing  that  relationship,  therefore 

"Be  it  ordered  by  the  court  that  the  Sieur  Baron  Tan- 
crfede  Palamfede  d'Anguilhem  shall  immediately  enter  into 
possession  of  the  estate  of  the  late  Vicomte  de  Bouzenois, 
consisting  of  all  properties  real  and  personal  and  general 
possessed  by  the  deceased,  as  is  just,  and  that 

"  The  Sieur  Afghano,  a  native  of  India,  is  condemned  to 
pay  all  charges  without  reserve  or  costs." 

Maitre  Bouteau  delivered  the  whole  without  once 
glancing  at  Roger,  who  could  scarcely  steady  himself  on 
his  bench. 

The  marquis  put  his  arm  around  his  friend  and 
whispered, — 

"D'Anguilhem,  your  father-in-law  is  a  grand  man." 

"  Yes ;  but  patience, "  said  Roger.  "  The  Indian  is 
going  to  produce  his  document." 

"  He  would  not  have  waited  until  this  time,"  returned 
Crette.  "  Be  easy ;  as  he  has  not  produced  it,  it  is  be- 
cause he  has  none." 


222  SYLVANDIRE. 

In  fact,  the  Indian  produced  no  document.  He  low- 
ered liis  liead  an  instant  as  if  overcome  by  tlie  blow ; 
then,  raisiiif^  it  immediately  with  a  pompous  air,  in  a 
voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  not  only  by  the  judges  but 
by  the  audience  as  well,  he  said, — 

"  Well,  it  was  a  good  thing  that  my  mother  did  not 
give  everything  to  that  wretched  Bouzenois.  Here  is  a 
proof  of  how  dangerous  it  is  to  enrich  lovers. " 

Roger  felt  his  anger  rising,  and  moved  as  if  about  in- 
continently to  avenge  the  memory  of  a  relative  of  whom 
he  had  just  been  recognized  the  heir. 

"  Are  you  mad?"  cried  Crette,  detaining  him.  "Let 
the  wretch  whine,  then,  that  has  just  been  flayed.  Your 
name  is  not  Bouzenois,  but  d'Anguilhem;  and,  j^ar- 
dieu!  the  lawyers  have  just  said  something  very 
different." 

At  this  moment,  the  Indian  came  toward  the  group  of 
young  people.  Roger  thought  he  was  coming  to  him, 
and  was  ready  to  receive  him ;  but  the  Indian  passed 
near  them,  that  was  all.  Only,  in  passing,  he  said  loud 
enough  to  be  heard,  — 

"  You  made  a  mistake.  Mademoiselle  Poussette,  when 
you  betrayed  me.  I  still  have  an  income  of  one  hundred 
thousand  livres. " 

"I  congratulate  you,  monsieur,"  said  Roger;  "it  is 
more  than  enough  to  support  your  name  worthily." 

"  There,  there,  do  not  get  into  a  quarrel,"  said  Crette; 
"  let  us  go  home  and  have  a  jolly  supper." 

"Alas!  Crette,"  replied  d'Anguilhem,  "you  forget 
that  I  have  to  go  and  see  my  fiancee." 

However,  Roger  pronounced  these  words  in  a  tone  less 
contrite  than  one  might  have  expected  from  him.  He 
was  thinking  of  his  father's  pride,  his  mother's  joy,  on 
suddenly  finding  themselves  so  prodigiously  rich.     And 


now   THE   JUDGMENT   WAS   GIVEN.  223 

the  poor  chevalier  was  so  good  a  son  that  he  began 
to  shake  off  the  thoughts  of  Constance's  grief. 

And  then  one  is  quickly  habituated  to  prosperity. 
Eoger  left  the  court-room  with  a  springing  gait  and  an 
inflation  of  chest  that  would  have  done  credit  to  one  who 
had  been  a  millionaire  from  birth. 

Crette  lent  him  his  coach  to  go  and  pay  his  visit  to 
Maitre  Bouteau,  and  he  took  leave  of  his  friend,  remind- 
ing him  that  the  supper  would  be  ready  at  eight 
o'clock, 

Roger  now  discovered  the  man  with  the  warts  who  was 
standing  behind  him.     His  opaline  eyes  glowed  with  fire. 

"  Maitre  Bouteau  has  just  left  the  Palais  to  return  to 
his  home.  Will  not  Monsieur  le  Baron  go  at  once  and 
present  his  compliments  1  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  monsieur, "  responded  the  cheva- 
lier, "  it  is  my  most  earnest  desire." 

"  Well,  are  you  satisfied,  chevalier  1  " 

"Yes,  monsieur,  you  have  kept  your  word,  it  is  truej 
but  there  are  yet  two  conditions  to  be  fulfilled." 

"  And  they  shall  be  fulfilled,  monsieur,  as  exactly  — 
let  us  hope  so,  at  least  —  as  the  first  has  been." 

"  Be  so  kind,  then,  as  to  get  into  my  carriage,  monsieur, 
and  we  will  be  off. " 

The  man  with  the  warts  got  into  the  coach ;  but  not- 
withstanding Roger's  insistence,  he  would  sit  only  in 
front. 

They  reached  a  hotel  in  the  Rue  Planche-Mibray ;  they 
ascended  to  the  third  floor. 

Maitre  Bouteau  was  sitting  in  his  office.  He  was  a 
rather  small  man,  with  an  immense  brow,  small  eyes  hid- 
den behind  spectacles,  thick  eyebrows  sprinkled  with 
gray,  and  an  imperceptible  mouth  which  was  lost  in  the 
wrinkles  of  his  cheeks ;   in  a  word,  he  was  a  very  ugly 


224  SYLVANDIRE. 

father-in-law,  but  it  Avns  not  he  that  the  chevaHer  was 
on  tlie  point  of  marrying,  llogcr  bowed  ahnost  graciously, 
and  was  opening  his  mouth  to  express  his  gratitude. 

"No  thanks,  monsieur,"  said  Maitre  Bouteau,  "you 
had  an  excellent  case ;  besides,  I  have  but  followed  the 
dictates  of  my  conscience,  and  my  colleagues,  however 
prejudiced  against  you  they  may  have  been,  allowed 
themselves  to  be  persuaded  by  my  feeble  arguments  in 
favor  of  justice." 

A  second  time  Roger  bowed  to  Maitre  Bouteau;  the 
latter  did  not  appear  to  be  examining  liim,  but,  while 
returning  his  salute,  he  eyed  him  narrowly  over  his 
spectacles.  This  scrutiny  ended,  he  turned  toward  an 
embroidered  screen  which  stretched  behind  him,  and  said 
with  perfect  naturalness,  — 

"  My  daughter,  come  hither  and  pay  your  respects 
to  my  client,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede 
d'Anguilhem." 

Roger  thought  the  earth  was  slipping  from  under  his 
feet.  A  cold  perspiration  oozed  from  his  forehead,  his 
heart  suspended  its  beating,  and  his  eyes,  staring  and 
haggard,  fixed  their  gaze  upon  an  angle  of  the  screen. 

Suddenly,  Roger  beheld  a  delicious  creature  appearing. 

Tall,  of  graceful  figure,  lithe,  and  agreeably  propor- 
tioned, with  black  eyes  veiled  by  velvety  lashes,  and  long 
black  hair  that  hung  in  heavy  curls  upon  her  white 
shoulders,  —  Sylvandire  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  at 
most,  and  would  have  passed  as  a  miracle  of  beauty, 

Roger,  breathless,  stupefied,  petrified,  did  not  think 
even  to  make  a  bow.  He  remained  motionless,  in 
ecstasy,  his  lips  parted  like  the  statue  of  Apollo  about 
to  speak. 

"  My  child, "  continued  the  councillor  as  he  took  Syl- 
vandire by  the  hand,   "  this  is  Monsieur  le    Chevalier 


HOW   THE    JUDGMENT   WAS    GIVEN.  225 

Roger  Tancr^de  d'Anguilhem  who  does  us  the  honor 
of  asking  your  hand  in  marriage." 

Sylvandire  raised  her  great  black  eyes  to  Roger,  and 
cast  upon  him  a  look  that  penetrated  the  very  depths  of 
his  heart. 

"  Oh,  I  am  lost !  "  cried  Roger  to  himself ;  "  such  a 
beautiful  girl  must  already  have  been  loved  by  some  one, 
unless  she  has  been  kept  in  a  closet. " 

"  Will  you  permit  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem 
to  prefer  his  suit  ?  "  continued  the  councillor. 

Sylvandire  glanced  a  second  time  at  Roger  with  a 
mingling  of  astonishment,  fear,  and  languorous  passion; 
but  she  was  silent. 

"  Silence  gives  consent,  monsieur  le  chevalier, "  resumed 
Maitre  Bouteau.  "  Now,  you  shall  know  that  Sylvan- 
dire is  my  only  daughter,  and  that  she  brings  her  hus- 
band a  dower  of  three  hundred  thousand  livres." 

Sylvandire  pressed  her  father's  hand  as  a  sign  of 
gratitude. 

"  Pardieu  !  "  said  Roger  to  himself,  "  he  could  give 
her  six  hundred  thousand  for  all  the  money  it  costs  him. 
No  matter!  I  ought  to  thank  him  for  being  so  modest." 

"  As  to  the  wedding,  when  do  you  say,  monsieur  le 
chevalier  1  "    asked  Maitre  Bouteau. 

"  Why, "  said  Roger,  "  it  is  for  mademoiselle  to  fix  the 
date,  and  when  she  will  consent  —  " 

Sylvandire  bent  her  head^  still  without  speaking. 

"  She  is  a  mute  !  "  cried  Roger,  believing  that  he  had 
discovered  the  probable  infirmity,  and  incapable  of  mas- 
tering the  new  fear  by  which  he  was  just  seized. 

Sylvandire  burst  out  laughing  very  frankly,  and 
replied,  — 

"No,  monsieur  le  chevalier;  thank  God,  I  can  speak." 

"Perhaps  she  is  only  foolish,"  thouglit  the  chevalier, 
15 


226  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  ami  yet  with  such  eyes  it  is  impossible  not  to  possess 
intellect." 

However,  as  this  first  interview  could  only  he  cmhar- 
rassing  to  all,  the  councillor  gave  his  daughter  a  side- 
glance,   and  she  courtesied  as  if  about  to  retire. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  "  are  you  going  away, 
mademoiselle,  without  deigning  to  say  at  what  date 
you  —  " 

"  I  leave  you  to  my  father,  monsieur,"  answered  Syl- 
vandire.  "  Although  he  is  a  man  of  law,  he  does  not 
like  affairs  to  drag  along.     What  he  does  is  well  done." 

"  Come, "  said  Eoger  to  himself,  "  I  was  deceived  in 
that  respect.      She  is  not  very  stupid." 

The  fortunate  chevalier  went  from  one  surprise  to 
another. 

Sylvandire  withdrew,  leaving  Koger  alone  with  his 
future  father-in-law. 

The  marriage  was  set  to  take  place  in  fifteen  days. 

The  arrangements  settled,  Koger  took  leave  of  Maitre 
Bouteau,  and  descended  the  stairs  with  a  step  lighter  than 
that  with  which  he  had  entered. 

At  the  street-door  he  found  the  man  with  the  warts. 

"  Well,  monsieur, "  said  the  latter,  "  are  you  satisfied  1  " 

"  So  well  satisfied, "  replied  Roger,  "  that  if  the  last 
condition  is  as  faithfully  kept  as  the  first  two,  you  shall 
have  a  thousand  louis,  my  fine  fellow." 

"  That  is  just  the  same  as  if  I  had  them  in  hand,"  said 
the  unknown,  bowing  almost  to  the  ground. 

Roger  heard  this  exclamation,  and  sprang  into  the 
coach  without  touching  the   steps. 

"  To  the  marquis !  "  he  shouted  to  Basque  with  a 
voice  in  which  lingered  no  trace  of  his  recent  fears. 

Ten  minutes  later,  the  coach  drew  up  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  hotel. 


THE   CHEVALIEE   IS   RESIGNED.  227 


XVI. 

HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM  PHILOSOPHICALLY 
RESIGNS  HIMSELF  TO  A  PRETTY  WIFE,  A  MAGNIFI- 
CENT HOTEL,  AND  AN  INCOME  OF  SEVENTY-FIVE 
THOUSAND    LIVRES. 

There  was  a  numerous  company  at  the  house  of  the 
marquis. 

Roger  entered  with  a  beaming  countenance.  All 
approached  and  overwhelmed  him  with  congratulations. 

The  marquis  allowed  this  storm  of  felicitations  to 
subside,  and  then  he  took  Eoger  by  the  hand  and  drew 
him  into  a  boudoir. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  the  fiancee?  " 

"  Charming,"  responded  Roger,  with  a  rueful  look. 

"  As  pretty  as  Constance  1  " 

"Alas!  prettier." 

"  Why,  then,  what  the  devil  are  you  still  so  gloomy 
about  1  " 

"  Ah  !  my  friend,"  murmured  Roger  with  a  deep  sigh, 
"  I  am  perfectly  sure  that  Constance  —  " 

"Well,  yes,  I  comprehend,"  said  the  marquis;  "but 
what  can  you  expect,  my  dear  fellow  !  that  also  would 
be  too  much  good  luck,  and  you  are  getting  unreason- 
ably exacting.  Consider  yourself  very  fortunate  to  be 
let  off  with  that,  and  then,  besides,  who  knows  1  Every- 
thing that  happens  to  you  is  so  extraordinary  !  " 

"Oh!  no,  my  friend,  you  will  not  persuade  me  that 
there  is  not  some  serpent  hidden  among  all  these  roses. 
But  what  of   it,  marquis!     The   die   is   cast,  and  be- 


228  SYLVANDIRE. 

sides  I  havo  reflected  that  the  most  honorable  man  on 
earth  might  be  deceived  in  my  position.  My  wife's 
past  is  beyond  mo.  Well,  I  shall  content  myself  with 
watching  her  future. " 

"That  is  right;  that  is  tlie  way  I  like  to  see  you! 
Now,  let  us  go  back.  A  bold  face,  and  trust  me  to 
manage  at  the  table,  happy  millionaire!  " 

They  sat  down  to  supper.  The  gold,  the  crystal,  the 
candles,  all  were  resplendent.  At  the  sight  Roger  re- 
flected that  he,  jwor  gentleman,  two  hours  before,  with- 
out fortune,  could  the  next  day,  if  he  wished,  receive 
in  a  handsomer  hotel  and  with  a  magnificence  equal  to 
that  displayed  in  his  honor,  this  friend  which  a  timely 
thrust  had  made  for  him.  Then,  while  thinking  all 
this,  he  remembered  the  fencing-master,  so  kind  and  so 
disinterested  at  the  time,  who  had,  Avithout  knowing  it, 
assured  the  fortune  of  his  family  by  demonstrating  a 
flanconade  to  his  son. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  said  the  marquis,  "yon  are  aware 
that  we  have  gathered  this  evening  to  rejoice  over  the 
winning  of  the  famous  suit  which  gives  our  friend  an 
income  of  seventy-five  thousand  livres. " 

"  You  are  the  one  that  brought  me  luck,"  returned 
Roger  with  a  bow  to  the  marquis. 

"  Here  's  to  the  health  of  d'Anguilhem  and  his 
seventy-five  thousand  livres  !  "  then  cried  the  guests 
together. 

"But  wait,"  said  Crette,"and  you  shall  drink  two 
healths  at  once,  unless  you  prefer  to  drink  twice." 

"What  is  it  then?"  at  once  demanded  d'Herbigny 
and  Clos-Renaud, 

"Our  friend  d'Anguilhem,"  said  the  marquis,  "has 
suddenly  fallen  in  love  in  Paris,  and  who  can  guess 
what  dainty  bit  the  rascal  has  chanced  upon  1  " 


THE    CHEVALIER   IS   RESIGNED.  229 

"  A  maid  of  Saint  Cyr,  dowered  by  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  1  "  ventured  Chastellux. 

"  A  princess  palatine  ?  "  asked  Clos-Kenaud. 

"A  daughter  of  the  royal  blood?  "  demanded  d'Her- 
bigny. 

"Ah!  well,  indeed  !  D'Anguilhem  is  noble  enough 
already,  and  he  is  looking  for  money.  The  daughter 
of  a  lawyer,  messieurs. " 

"  Phew  !  "  whistled  some  of  the  guests. 

"Ah!  chevalier,  you  are  retrograding,"  said  d'Her- 
bigny.  "  You  should  marry  an  actress  of  the  Comedie- 
Franqaise  or  an  opera-singer;  that  would  be  more  like 
the  grand  seigneur. " 

"But  stay,  messieurs,"  resumed  the  marquis.  "The 
damsel  is  as  beautiful  as  Venus,  and  has  a  dower  of  six 
hundred  thousand  livres. " 

"Festef  chevalier,  we  congratulate  you,"  cried  the 
young  men  in  chorus. 

"  Which  means  the  chevalier  settles  in  Paris,  and 
establishes  himself  in  the  hotel  of  the  Vicomte  de 
Bouzenois,  and  gives  us  banquets,  —  banquets  beside 
which  this  one  is  only  a  grub-shop  dinner." 

"  In  that  case,  long  live  the  chevalier  and  the  cheva- 
liere  !  "  cried  d'Herbigny,  raising  his  glass. 

And  all,  in  the  same  terms,  did  justice  to  d'Her- 
bigny's  toast. 

"  Now,  said  the  viscount,  replacing  his  glass  on  the 
table,  "as  you  are  on  a  good  footing  with  the  lawyers' 
guild,  my  dear  d'Anguilhem,  find  for  me,  too,  a  daugh- 
ter of  one  of  your  father-in-law's  colleagues,  some  pretty 
little  rohine.  I  will  take  her  even  with  five  hundred 
thousand  livres." 

"  Then,  here  's  to  the  future  marriage  of  the  Vicomte 
d'Herbigny,"  said  the  chevalier,  lifting  his  glass. 


230  SYLVANDIRE. 

Then  ■wliilo  all  were  drinking  lie  quickly  turned  to 
Crette,  and  extundiug  liis  hand,  said, — 

"Thanks,  marquis,  thanks!  You  have  been  kind, 
excellent,  as  always." 

In  fact,  Crette  had  saved  his  friend  from  all  ridicule 
on  the  subject  of  his  marriage.  It  is  also  true  that 
Mademoiselle  Bouteau's  six  hundred  thousand  livres 
had  produced  a  magical  elFect. 

In  brief,  the  supper  was  so  gay  that,  whatever  his 
preoccupation,  d'Anguilhem  made  merry  even  to  the 
dessert. 

Eoger  left  the  marquis  two  hours  after  midnight, 
making  an  appointment  for  the  morning  at  eleven 
o'clock.  He  wished  to  take  possession  of  the  Hotel  de 
Bouzenois  accompanied  only  by  his  friend. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  marquis  was  at  Roger's 
hotel.  They  set  out  together  for  the  Place  Louis-le- 
Grand,  and  this  time  the  two  doors  of  the  grand  entrance 
opened  to  the  chevalier.  For  an  hour  the  representa- 
tives of  the  court  had  been  waiting  to  remove  the  seals. 

All  that  the  man  with  the  warts  had  said  was  scrupu- 
lously true.  The  strong  box  was  full ;  the  caskets  were 
gorged  with  jewels;  the  collection  of  engraved  gems 
and  of  medals  was  magnificent. 

Eoger  was  dazzled  at  sight  of  such  wealth.  He, 
■who  had  come  to  Paris  with  fifty  louis,  did  not  know 
that  so  much  money  existed  in  the  world.  He  wished 
to  repay  on  the  spot  the  eight  or  ten  thousand  livres  that 
he  owed  Crette;  but  the  marquis  made  him  understand 
that  he  was  in  rather  too  great  haste  by  saying  that  he 
would  send  Basque  in  the  morning  to  take  charge  of 
all  that  hardware. 

The  chevalier  at  once  selected  some  of  the  diamonds 
and  precious    stones  to  send  to  his  mother.     Perhaps, 


THE   CHEVALIER   IS   RESIGNED.  231 

wliile  doing  this,  he  was  thinking  of  Constance;  for, 
although  he  did  not  pronounce  her  name,  Crette  under- 
stood by  his  involuntary  sighs  that  he  had  not  forgotten 
her. 

The  hotel,  although  very  sumptuous,  needed  to  be 
overlooked  by  a  man  of  taste.  Again  it  was  Crette  who 
undertook  the  task.  He  sent  for  his  upholsterer,  gave 
him  his  orders,  and  granted  him  eight  days.  The 
upholsterer  declared  that  it  was  impossible  to  have 
everything  done  in  so  short  a  time.  Crette  contented 
himself  with  replying,  — 

"  You  will  be  paid  the  day  it  is  finished." 

By  the  seventh  day  the  hotel  was  refitted  and  in  order; 
and,  in  accordance  with  Roger's  ambition,  the  arms  of 
d'Anguilhem  had  replaced  on  the  hatchment  the  arms 
of  Bouzenois. 

In  the  meantime  Roger  had  sent  his  mother  the  best 
carriage  he  could  find  in  the  coach-houses.  It  was 
Rameau-d'or  who  conveyed  it,  travelling  post.  He 
had  to  return  by  the  mail-coach.  Crette  was  Roger's 
never-failing  resource.  When  he  was  not  lending  his 
advice,  he  was  lending  his  money.  When  he  was  not 
lending  his  money,  he  was  lending  his  servants. 

As  Rameau-d'or  was  a  trustworthy  man,  he  was  noti- 
fied that  one  of  the  coach-boxes,  whose  key  was  given 
him,  contained  a  thousand  louis,  and  was  bidden  to 
keep  watch  over  it. 

Roger  wrote  also  to  his  father  and  mother  to  come 
and  take  possession  of  the  rest  of  their  fortune,  sending 
them  an  account,  even  to  the  last  sou,  of  all  that  he  had 
been  obliged  to  expend,  adding,  moreover,  that  by 
unheard-of  good  fortune  his  fiancee  was  beautiful  and 
perfectly  bred,  and  it  seemed  impossible  that  any  one 
could  be  more  spirituelle. 


232  SYLVANDIRE. 

The  joy  of  the  baron  ami  tlie  baroness  was  extreme 
when  they  learned  tliat  their  daughter-in-law  seemed  to 
be  quite  above  reproach,  and  the  baron  declared  that 
he  would  settle  upon  his  son  an  income  of  fifty  thousand 
livres,  and  keep  the  remainder  to  improve  Anguilhem. 

"  Yet, "  he  added,  "  perhaps  we  shall  buy  a  town  resi- 
dence at  Loches,  in  order  to  receive  there  during  the 
winter. " 

The  report  of  the  winning  of  the  suit  and  tlio  marriage 
to  follow  was  spread  abroad  as  far  as  Beuzerie.  The 
viscount  and  the  viscountess,  who,  while  consenting  to 
their  daughter's  marriage  with  Roger,  had  always  pre- 
served a  leaven  of  ill-feeling  toward  the  d'Anguilhems, 
hastened  to  transmit  the  news  to  their  daughter;  but 
Constance  shook  her  head,  smiling,  and  would  not  be- 
lieve a  word  that  was  told  her. 

"  Has  Eoger  written  1  "  she  asked. 

"No." 

"  He  told  me  to  believe  nothing  but  what  I  should 
hear  from  his  own  lips,  or  should  see  written  by  his  own 
hand." 

"  Consequently  —  " 

"  I  believe  in  nothing  but  his  love." 

The  viscount  and  the  viscountess  insisted  as  long  as 
they  were  able;  but  Constance,  like  the  doubting 
apostle,  would  not  believe  without  seeing. 

Before  his  departure  for  Paris  the  baron  felt  con- 
strained to  pay  a  visit  to  his  neighbors,  and  explain  to 
them  by  what  necessity  Roger  was  forced  to  fail  in  his 
engagement.  The  viscount  listened  very  tranquilly  to 
his  discourse  from  end  to  end,  and  then  he  bade  his 
wife  bring  Constance  down  from  her  room.  Constance 
descended,  and  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  begged  that  the 
baron  would  repeat  to  his  daughter  what  he  had  just  said 


THE   CHEVALIER   IS   EESIGNED.  233 

to  him  relating  to  Koger's  marriage.  The  baron  repeated 
word  for  word  the  little  speech  that  he  had  framed  as  he 
came  along  the  road;  but  during  all  the  time  he  was 
speaking  Constance  kept  shaking  her  head,  with  a  smile 
that  was  full  of  adorable  trust.  Then  when  he  had 
ended  she  asked,  — 

"  Did  Koger  send  you  a  letter  for  me  1  " 

"No,"  answered  the  baron.  "His  position  was  too 
embarrassing.  He  would  not  have  dared  avow  to  you 
that  he  had  been  compelled,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  be 
unfaithful  to  you." 

"  In  that  case,  you  are  trying  to  deceive  me,"  replied 
Constance.  "  Roger  told  me  to  believe  only  what  I 
heard  from  his  own  lips,  or  saw  written  by  his  own 
hand." 

"  Consequently,"  repeated  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie. 

"  I  believe  in  nothing  but  his  love." 

And  they  could  get  nothing  further  from  the  girl, 
who,  moreover,  appeared  to  take  no  sort  of  interest  in 
the  rumors  which  soon  spread  throughout  the  province. 

The  departure  of  the  baron  and  the  baroness,  travel- 
ling post  with  four  horses  and  a  courier  in  advance,  was 
an  event  to  be  talked  of  a  week  for  ten  leagues  around. 
It  was  said  that  Roger  had  found  chests  filled  with 
diamonds  and  a  gold-mine  in  the  cellar. 

During  this  period  Roger  was  wooing ;  but  his  fiancee 
was  kept  under  the  strictest  guard.  Maitre  Bouteau  did 
not  leave  his  daughter  a  moment,  —  a  paternal  assiduity 
that  continued  to  nourish  Roger's  misgivings,  Never- 
theless, he  went  daily  to  pass  an  hour  with  Sylvandire, 
and  the  girl,  to  the  great  amazement  of  her  future 
spouse,  displayed  a  most  varied  culture  and  a  most  agree- 
able mind.     Roger  never  ceased  to  look  and  to  listen. 

All  the  customary  formalities,  moreover,    had   been 


234  SYLVANDIRE. 

observed,  and  only  tlic  arrival  of  the  great  relatives  was 
awaited  to  proceed  with  11  le  marriage  ceremony. 

Tluit  arrival  was  too  stately  a  sjDectacle  for  us  to  neg- 
lect attempting  to  give  some  idea  of  it  to  tlie  reader. 
Monsieur  and  Madame  d'Anguilhem  had  spiritedly 
ordered  their  wardrobes  from  J'aris.  Hence  they 
appeared  dressed  in  the  latest  styles  of  the  court,  and 
as  both  were  of  ancient  lineage  and  possessed  the  noble 
bearing  that  two  revolutions  have  not  yet  been  able  to 
efface  from  our  real  nobility,  they  presented  a  suitably 
imposing  appearance;  but  the  nephews  and  cousins  from 
tlie  country,  and  the  distant  relatives  from  Saintonge 
and  Perigord,  produced  a  profound  sensation.  They 
came  in  the  felt  hats,  doublets,  breeches,  and  cloaks 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XIII.  One  would  have  said  that 
a  collection  of  family  portraits  had  emerged  from  the 
garret. 

Roger,  who  dreaded  ridicule  above  all  things,  was 
married  at  night  at  Saint  Roche,  thus  postponing  the 
wedding-feast  until  all  the  relatives,  loaded  with  gifts, 
would  have  departed  in  the  conveyances  by  which  they 
had  come.  The  baron  and  the  baroness  lavished 
caresses  on  the  lawyer's  daughter,  who  smiled  affection- 
ately at  her  husband  and  lent  herself  admirably  to  their 
endearments. 

Roger  thanked  the  Marquis  de  Crette  for  all  the  ser- 
vices rendered  him  and  the  honor  done  him,  and  prom- 
ised to  write  to  him  on  the  subject  which  had  so 
tormented  and  which  still  tormented  him  more  than 
ever.  Then  he  set  out  with  his  wife  for  a  little 
country-seat  at  Champigny,  which  had  long  been  used 
as  a  place  of  residence  by  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois. 

As  for  the  baron  and  the  baroness,  they  went  back  to 
Anguilhem,  impatient  to  heighten  by  a  little  necessary 


THE    CHEVALIER   IS   RESIGNED.  235 

outlay  the  splendor  of  the  escutcheon  that  was  falling 
into  reproachful  decay  above  the  gateway  of  the  chateau. 
The  day  following  Eoger's  departure  for  Champigny 
the  Marquis  de  Crette  received  from  the  chevalier  by 
special  courier,  a  letter  which  contained  only  these  few 
lines:  — 

"  I  am  the  most  fortunate  of  men  ! 

"  Do  me  the  favor,  my  dear  marquis,  to  ask  my  father-in- 
law  for  the  address  of  the  man  with  the  warts,  and  remit  to 
him,  in  my  name,  one  thousand  louis. 
"  Yom*  sincere  friend, 

"Le  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem." 


236  SYLVANDIRE. 


XVII. 

now  THE  CHEVALIER  FOUND  HIMSELF  IN  SUCH  LUCK 
THAT  HE  "WAS  READY,  LIKE  POLYCRATES,  THE 
TYRANT    OF    SAMOS,   TO    CAST  A  RING  INTO    THE   SEA. 

Thus  Koger  had  set  his  conscience  at  rest  with  regard  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie. 

If  nothing  weakens  love  like  possession,  nothing 
nourishes  it  like  hope;  but  hope  once  lost,  the  strongest 
love  retires,  if  it  is  not  destroyed,  before  stern  necessity. 
Hence  when  Roger  knew  that  he  must  no  longer  indulge 
in  his  old-time  fancies,  and  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  one  of  the  most  seductive  realities  that  could  exist 
in  all  the  world,  he  wept  and  he  moaned,  but  in  the  end 
he  sacrificed  himself,  and  with  a  very  good  grace  even. 

He  took  advantage,  then,  of  his  mother's  return  to 
Anguilhem  to  write  Constance  a  most  touching  letter. 
He  told  her  that  one  of  the  necessities  that  gentlemen 
sometimes  encounter,  and  by  which  their  courage  is 
tried,  had  come  upon  him,  and  that,  in  sacrificing  him- 
self to  the  happiness  of  his  family,  he  was  about  to  re- 
nounce the  hope  of  ever  being  happy  himself.  He  tlien 
entreated  Constance  to  forgive  and  to  forget  him.  But 
he  closed  by  swearing  to  his  dear  love  that,  in  spite  of 
the  inexorable  decree  that  he  was  forced  to  obey,  —  the 
style  is  that  of  Corneille,  still  much  in  vogue  at  that 
date,  —  he,  Eoger,  should  love  Constance  until  death. 

Constance,  thus  released  from  her  promise,  became 
free  again,  and  could  marry  in  turn. 


THE   CHEVALIER   FINDS   HIMSELF   IN   LUCK.     237 

When  Eoger  was  writing  Constance  the  letter  whose 
substance  we  have  just  given,  he  had  not  yet  liad  occa- 
sion to  write  to  the  Marquis  de  Crette  the  one  whose 
contents  we  gave  at  the  close  of  the  preceding  chapter. 
He  was  then  yet  distrustful  of  Sylvandire,  and  he 
thought  that,  deceived  beforehand,  in  all  probability  by 
his  wife,  he  would  always  have  the  best  side  of  the 
conjugal  scene  if  ever  the  two  rivals  should  compare 
notes,  and  one  of  them  should  show  the  other  the  letter 
that  she  had  received. 

Roger  had  been  deeply  moved  while  inditing  the 
mournful  sentiments  that  we  have  set  forth,  and,  with 
eyes  still  wet  with  tears,  he  took  the  letter  containing 
them  to  the  Baronne  d'Anguilhem.  She,  good  dame, 
still  possessed  of  faith  in  the  undying  nature  of  love, 
even  when  crossed  by  insurmountable  obstacles,  hastened 
to  refer  the  matter  to  her  husband,  the  more  especially 
because  Roger  had  charged  her  to  forward  the  letter  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie,  and  to  see  above  all  things 
that  it  was  placed  in  her  own  hands. 

Monsieur  d'Anguilhem  was  extremely  embarrassed  by 
this  overture.  To  fail  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  son's 
desire  was,  in  his  own  estimation,  to  betray  a  trust,  and 
it  must  be  confessed  that  during  the  last  four  months 
Roger  had  so  grown  in  the  paternal  opinion  and  esteem , 
owing  to  the  way  in  which  he  had  borne  himself  in  the 
capital,  that  the  baron  respected  his  son  almost  as  much 
as  he  loved  him.  On  the  other  hand,  to  convey  to 
Constance  a  letter  filled,  undoubtedly,  with  vows  of 
undying  love  was,  perhaps,  to  rekindle  the  embers  that 
were  very  certain  to  die  out  if  left  alone.  It  was,  per- 
haps, to  foster  culpable  thoughts,  to  foment  a  revolution 
at  the  hearthstone  of  the  Beuzeries. 

For  the  baron  had  not  sought  to  learn  the  contents  of 


238  SYLVANDIRE. 

the  letter,  and  ho  would  as  soon  have  cast  himself  into 
the  fire  as  to  have  done  it,  such  was  his  delicacy  in  tlio 
matter.  The  baroness,  for  her  part,  could  give  him  no 
information  save  that,  knowing  Roger's  unalterable 
ailection  for  Constance,  the  letter  must  contain  dreadful 
lamentations  against  fate  and  cruel  accusations  against 
destiny.  As  a  result,  after  the  baron  had  considered 
and  reconsidered  the  subject  of  Roger's  letter  in  all  its 
bearings,  he  prudently  decided  that  it  would  be  better 
hot  to  remit  the  letter  to  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie; 
and  in  order  that  he  might  not  reverse  his  decision,  he 
double-locked  the  epistle  in  a  cabinet. 

The  carrying  out  of  this  resolution  was  for  some  time 
a  source  of  much  torment  to  the  Baron  d'Anguilhem; 
but  he  gradually  gained  comfort  from  the  thought  that 
chance  often  makes  use  of  accident  to  do  a  great  deal  of 
good  in  this  world. 

As  a  result.  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie,  not  having 
received  the  letter  which  released  her  from  her  vows, 
would  admit  nothing  of  what  was  said  to  her  about 
Roger's  marriage,  replying  to  the  most  positive  asser- 
tions of  her  father  and  her  mother,  — 

"  They  have  made  him  believe  that  I  am  dead !  " 

During  all  this  time,  Roger,  supposing  that  he  had 
restored  her  freedom  to  Constance,  was  very  much  at 
peace,  and,  were  we  not  afraid  of  giving  our  readers  too 
bad  an  opinion  of  our  hero,  we  would  even  add  that  he 
was  very  happy. 

I  do  not  think  there  could  be  a  marriage,  unless  it 
united  a  tiger  and  a  panther,  that  could  not  pretend  to 
the  enjoyment  of  peace  for  a  fortnight  after  the  wedding- 
day. 

Moreover,  aside  from  her  beauty,  which  was  perfect, 
and  of  which  Roger  was   unusually  appreciative,  Syl- 


THE   CHEVALIER   FINDS    HIMSELF   IN  LUCK.    239 

vanilire  seemed  an  adorable  combination  of  simplicity, 
grace,  and  virtue. 

Her  newly-made  spouse  had  questioned  and  cross- 
questioned  her.  He  had  exhausted  his  wisdom  and 
logic  in  an  effort  to  involve  her  answers  in  contradic- 
tion, bl^t  on  no  subject  had  he  been  able  to  surprise  her 
in  an  untruth ;  and  so  he  unceasingly  asked  himself 
why  Maitre  Bouteau  had  taken  so  many  precautions, 
such  care  and  pains  to  secure  the  settlement  of  a  treasure 
so  desirable. 

"  But  what  did  you  do  at  your  father's,  dear?  "  Eoger 
once  asked. 

"  Oh!  it  was  very  dull,"  responded  Sylvandire. 

"  But  did  he  never  entertain  1  " 

"Oh!  certainly,  old  counsellors,  old  lawyers,  old 
judges,  — all  men  whose  talk  was  very  tiresome." 

"  They  were  all  ?  " 

"  Oh  I  mon  Dieu,  yes,  absolutely  all." 

Thereupon  Roger,  after  having  dreaded  a  deformity, 
an  infirmity,  and  something  worse,  upon  recovering 
from  these  three  terrors  concluded  that  his  wife  must 
be  addicted  to  a  secret  vice. 

"  Perhaps  she  is  a  gourmand,"  he  said  to  himself. 

It  was  a  vice  of  the  day.     See  Saint  Simon. 

And  he  essayed  to  provoke  her  appetite  by  the  help 
of  the  exquisite  wines  that  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois  had 
kept  in  his  cellar  for  twenty  years;  but,  after  tasting 
the  best  Tokay  and  the  most  exquisite  Constance, 
Sylvandire  made  a  little  grimace  of  disgust,  and  re- 
turned to  her  pure  cold  water,  the  only  drink  that  she 
liked. 

On  one  occasion,  having  taken  a  sip  of  Syracuse,  a 
flush  overspread  her  face,  and  she  was  uncomfortable 
from  it  during  the  remainder  of  the  evening.     She  de- 


240  SYLVANDIRE. 

clurcJ  tliat  henceforth  slio  wouhl  abstain  from  so  much 
as  ■\vettiiig  her  lips  with  any  sort  of  wine. 

"  My  wife  is  not  foml  of  tlie  ta1)le,"  thought  Roger. 
"  Let  u.s  look  for  some  other  vice,  for  certainly  she  must 
have  one." 

"Ah!  now  I  have  it!"  he  said,  one  fine  morning. 
"  My  wife  is  a  gflmhler. " 

And  that  very  evening  he  placed  a  roi;leau  of  gold 
before  her  and  handed  her  the  cards;  but  Sylvandire 
understood  no  game,  laughed  like  mad  when  she  won, 
and  made  a  face  for  the  loss  of  a  twelve-sous  piece. 

"My  wife  is  not  a  gambler,"  said  Roger,  "  it  is  true; 
but  perhaps  she  is  miserly." 

Roger  put  his  wife  into  her  carriage,  crammed  her 
pockets  with  gold,  and  took  her  to  the  most  fashion- 
able milliners  and  dressmakers  in  Paris.  Sylvandire 
spent  three  hundred  louis  on  bonnets,  laces,  and  gowns, 
and  that  without  bargaining. 

"  The  devil !  "  exclaimed  Roger.  "  She  must  be  ex- 
travagant, then." 

However,  when  he  one  day  intentionally  offered  her 
a  slight  reproach  for  having  paid  ten  louis  more  for  an 
English  guimpe  than  it  was  worth,  Sylvandire  thanked 
him  for  the  remonstrance,  and  begged  that  he  would  in 
the  future  himself  regulate  her  expenditures. 

"  So  much  the  worse  !  So  much  the  worse!  "  thought 
Roger.     "  It  must  be  something  very  serious." 

Then  Roger  stood  guard  and  watched  to  see  if  there 
might  not  come  prowling  about  the  conjugal  mansion  one 
of  those  creatures  of  both  night  and  day  called  cousins, 
a  dangerous  species  of  which  one  can  be  rid  only  by 
slaying  them  on  the  spot. 

But  not  a  plume  of  a  lover,  as  Mademoiselle  Scudery 
would  have  said,  not  a  muzzle  of  a  gallant,  as  Moliere 


THE   CHEVALIER   FINDS   HIMSELF   IN   LUCK.     241 

would  have  said,  showed  itself  in  the  neighhorhood  of 
Champigny. 

"Most  decidedly,  I  possess  a  treasiare,"  Roger  said  to 
himself  in  aif right;  "and  I  was  born,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, under  some  lucky  star  as  yet  undiscovered  by 
the  modern  astronomers." 

It  was  true,  however,  or  at  least  it  seemed  to  be  true. 

To  say  that  Sylvandire  felt  great  love  for  her  husband 
is  a  thing  we  dare  not  affirm.  Perhaps  Sylvandire 
loved  nothing,  and  in  the  eyes  of  poor  Roger,  that 
absence  of  love  was  a  virtue ;  but  there  is  nothing  like 
these  apparently  indifferent  people  for  waking  up,  for 
suddenly  taking  fire.  There  is  nothing  like  a  sunset 
behind  the  clouds  for  producing  hail,  rain,  and  storm. 

Maitre  Bouteau  visited  his  children  at  Champigny. 
Eoger,  who  adored  his  own  parents,  and  wrote  to  them 
twice  a  week,  thought  Sylvandire  very  cold  toward  this 
kind  father  who  had  accomplished  so  much  for  her.  He 
meditated  for  two  or  three  days  upon  her  indifference, 
and  as  he  was  in  a  mood  to  discover  good  reason  for 
everything,  he  persuaded  himself  in  the  end  that  her 
love  for  himself  had  extinguished  all  other  love.  We 
see  that  Roger  was  already  far  advanced  in  the  study  of 
his  role  as  husband.  From  a  pessimist  he  had  become 
an  optimist. 

Moreover,  Roger  paid  a  thousand  and  one  attentions 
to  Maitre  Bouteau,  and  Maitre  Bouteau  reciprocated 
them.  But  the  one  had  an  object  in  view;  the  other 
had  none.  Roger  determined  to  attain  a  certain  footing 
with  Maitre  Bouteau,  and  when  he  had  reached  the 
desired  point,  to  sound  him  to  the  depths.  After  a 
hearty  country  dinner  which  had  lasted  until  seven 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  Roger  thought  his  opportunity 
had  at  last  arrived. 

16 


242  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Come,  Maitre  Bouteau,"  lie  said,  as  he  drew  his 
father-in-law  into  an  embrasure  of  the  window,  "  come, 
speak  frankly,  now  that  you  no  longer  fear  I  shall  escape 
you,  and,  I  will  also  add,  now  that  I  no  longer  even 
wish  to  escape;  tell  me  —  for  I  must  admit  that,  so  far, 
I  have  not  discovered  for  myself  —  what  the  fault  was 
with  Sylvandire.  Of  course  you  must  have  had  your 
reasons  for  disposing  of  her  in  so  strange  a  fashion." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  speak  freely,  my  dear  son- 
in-law.  In  the  first  place,  you  can  see  for  yourself," 
said  the  good  man  whose  tongue  had  been  loosened  by 
the  muscatelle,  "  I  made  Sylvandire 's  dot  by  the  busi- 
ness,—  a  hundred  thousand  crowns." 

"  I  know  the  figure,"  remarked  Roger. 

"  A  sum  that  you  will  get  back  after  I  am  gone,  with 
interest.  Then,  again,  I  made  sure  that  my  daughter 
would  not  marry  one  of  these  provincial  lordlings 
whose  possessions  consist  of  cloak  and  sAvord,  nor  one 
of  these  tradesmen  who  credit  their  debts  and  debit  their 
credits,  in  a  word,  who  are  ruined  unless  a  wife  comes 
to  the  rescue." 

"You  knew,  then,  the  amount  of  Monsieur  de  Bouze- 
nois'  fortune  ?  " 

"  To  the  last  franc,  sou,  and  denier,  my  dear  son-in- 
law.  I  had  myself  verified  everything,  computed  every- 
thing, made  every  estimate." 

"  But  there  were  certainly  gentlemen  of  the  court  to 
be  preferred  to  me. " 

"  Without  doubt;  but  they  had  no  lawsuits  that  deliv- 
ered them  up  to  me,  bound  hand  and  foot.  Then,  too, 
fortunes  of  fifteen  hundred  thousand  livres  are  rare, 
even  at  court.  Besides,  I  had  always  said  that  I  would 
dower  my  daughter  from  the  first  important  case  that 
came  in  my  way.     To  take  money  as  your  judges  have 


THE   CHEVALIER   FINDS   HIMSELF   IN   LUCK.     243 

done  is  to  rob  both  justice  and  the  suitor;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  throw  into  the  bargain  and  give  that  same 
suitor  who  is  indebted  to  you  for  his  fortune,  a  charm- 
ing girl,  is  at  once,  I  think  so  at  least,  to  perform  a 
duty  and  to  render  a  service. " 

"Quite  the  same  thing,"  thought  Roger.  "In  fact, 
the  idea  is  very  reasonable,  and  in  an  extreme  case  one 
can  believe  it.  And  so,"  he  added  aloud,  "  and  so,  my 
very  dear  father-in-law,  you  were  not  the  least  in  the 
world  embarrassed  with  Sylvandire  1  " 

"  Oh  !  mon  Dieu,  not  at  all,  unless  it  was  that  she 
found  it  pretty  dull  with  me,  and  that,  as  she  is  of  a 
very  decided  character  —  " 

"  Ah !  my  wife  has  a  decided  character  1  " 

"Her  little  head  is  iron,  my  dear  son-in-law.  As  I 
was  saying,  since  she  is  of  a  very  decided  character,  I 
trembled  from  one  hour  to  another  lest  she  should 
commit  some  mad  act.  She  is  a  girl  of  broad  intellect, 
and  requires  above  all  things  to  be  constantly  enter- 
tained. " 

"  She  likes  pleasure,  then?  "  demanded  Roger. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,  having  never  provided  her 
with  any.  However,  from  what  I  am  able  to  gather 
from  her  character,  I  should  say  that  she  would  not 
dislike  amusements." 

"Father-in-law,  you  certainly  believe  that  I  Avish  to 
make  Sylvandire  happy,  do  you  not?  " 

"  You  are  doing  all  in  your  power  toward  that  end." 

"  Well,  let  us  hear  now.  If,  with  that  end  in  view, 
I  were  to  consult  you  about  her  tastes  and  her  character, 
what  advice  would  you  give  me  1  " 

"  I  should  say :  have  confidence  in  her  —  " 

"  Ah !  indeed,  so  much  the  better,"  interrupted 
Roger. 


244  SYLVANDIRE. 

"But  wait,  wait, "  continued  the  father-in-law.  "I 
should  say :  have  confidence  in  her,  but  watch  her 
always." 

"The  devil!"  ejaculated  Roger,  ill-pleased  enough 
with  the  conclusion. 

The  next  day  Maitre  Bouteau  set  out  for  Paris,  leav- 
ing his  son-in-law  quite  preoccupied  with  their  conver- 
sation of  the  night  before. 

In  fact  Koger  was  so  happy  that  it  was  evident  such 
happiness  could  not  last.  And  indeed  Roger's  very 
happiness  was  torture. 

A  strange  thing  is  the  heart  of  man.  We  do  not 
speak  of  a  woman's,  which  we  know  only  by  sympathy. 

A  strange  thing,  we  repeat,  is  the  heart  of  man,  and 
one  knows  not  what  to  think  of  the  indefinite  assortment 
of  loves  it  contains.  Certainly  Roger  had  loved  Con- 
stance well.  Roger  loved  her  even  to  the  extent  that 
had  he  learned  of  her  marriage  he  would  have  been  in 
despair.  Well,  Roger  also  loved  Sylvandire  with  a 
difi'erent  love,  it  is  true.  He  loved  Constance  as  one 
loves  a  beautiful  lily,  admiring  its  purity,  intoxicated 
with  its  perfume,  cherishing  it  in  a  corner  of  the  garden 
of  one's  heart,  away  from  all  eyes,  far  from  all  gaze. 
He  loved  Sylvandire  as  one  loves  a  beautiful  dia- 
mond, causing  it  to  flash  its  fires  at  every  light,  wear- 
ing it  in  the  sight  of  all,  gaining  the  envy  of  the 
ambitious. 

The  love  he  had  experienced  for  Constance  was  the 
purest  glow  of  the  soul.  The  love  he  felt  for  Sylvan- 
dire was  a  somewhat  commoner  blaze,  which,  kindled 
in  the  depths  of  the  heart,  gradually  won  upon  all  the 
senses.  Roger  could  have  spent  his  life  in  looking  at 
Constance,  and  he  would  have  been  happy  in  looking 
at  her.     In  his  relations  with  Sylvandire  he  would  have 


THE    CHEVALIER   FINDS   HIMSELF   IN   LUCK.     245 

died  of  love,  like  Narcissus,  had  he  been  compelled  to 
limit  himself  merely  to  the  sight  of  her. 

And  now  that  I  have  sketched  Roger's  two  loves,  it 
is  for  the  women  to  say  with  which  of  the  two  they 
prefer  to  be  loved. 

But  in  very  truth  Roger  cherished  them  both,  the 
one  in  his  soul,  the  other  in  his  heart;  and  perhaps 
even  he  was  so  happy,  and  feared  so  much  to  alter  his 
condition,  only  because  the  one  completed  the  other. 


246  SYLVANDIRE. 


XVIII. 

HOW     THE     CONJUGAL     HORIZON    OF      THE     CHEVALIER 
d'aNGUILHEM    gradually    CLOUDED    OVER. 

A  FEW  more  days  were  passed  in  perfect  happiness. 
But,  constantly  tormented  by  the  confidences  made  to 
him  by  his  father-in-law  with  regard  to  Sylvandire, 
Roger  resolved  to  make  a  proposition  to  his  wife  that 
would  perhaps  put  to  a  test  the  calmness  which  seemed 
an  affectation  on  her  part,  so  profound  it  was. 

And  Roger  was  wrong,  we  must  admit.  To  enjoy 
present  blessings  and  trust  in  heaven  for  those  to  come 
is  one  of  the  first  precepts  of  human  wisdom.  It  is 
also  one  of  the  least  practised.  Question  three-fourths 
of  the  men  who  have  been  unhappy,  and  they  will  con- 
fess that  they  searched  for  their  first  grief,  as  Diogenes 
searched  for  a  man,  with  a  lantern. 

To  be  brief,  one  fine  morning  Roger  lighted  his  lan- 
tern and  went  to  find  Sylvandire. 

"My  beautiful  darling,"  he  said  to  her,  "I  have 
some  news  to  announce  that  will  certainly  delight  you; 
for  of  course,  as  I  am  greatly  pleased,  you  will  be 
greatly  pleased." 

"Why,  certainly,"  responded  Sylvandire,  lifting  to 
Roger  a  slow  glance  which  was  not  exempt  from  some 
anxiety. 

"This  happiness  arises  from  our  love,  Sylvandire; 
and  you,  of  course,  like  me,  prefer  seclusion  in  love." 

Sylvandire  remained  silent. 


THE  CONJUGAL  HORIZON  CLOUDED.     247 

"  Now,"  continued  Roger,  "as  just  we  two  love  eacli 
other,"  and  Roger  somewhat  emphasized  liis  words,  "  to 
be  by  ourselves,  to  be  far  from  society  —  " 

Sylvandire  gave  ear  like  a  horse  at  the  whistling  of 
the  lash. 

"  We  will  sell  the  Hotel  de  Bouzenois  and  have  the 
furniture  stored.  Then  we  will  live,  if  you  like,  at 
Anguilhem,  where  Maitre  Bouteau  will  delight  us  by 
coming  to  spend  his  vacation." 

"  And  why  should  we  bury  ourselves  in  the  coun- 
try 1  "  demanded  Sylvandire  with  some  spirit. 

"  Why,  to  live  with  my  family." 

"Your  family  is  not  mine,"  replied  Sylvandire; 
"  and  save  for  the  month  that  he  would  come  to  stay 
with  us,  my  father  would  spend  the  rest  of  the  year  in 
Paris." 

"Yes,  my  dear,  you  are  undoubtedly  right.  But, 
between  ourselves  it  may  be  said,  Sylvandire,  I  do  not 
think  you  care  the  least  in  the  world  to  live  with  Maitre 
Bouteau." 

"You  deceive  yourself.  I  dearly  love  my  father; 
and  besides,  I  have  no  intention  of  exiling  myself  in 
that  wa}'." 

"  Do  you  call  residence  with  me  exile  ?  Oh  !  the 
word  is  not  pleasant,  Sylvandire." 

"But,  my  dear,"  rejoined  in  a  much  milder  tone  the 
young  wife,  who  in  a  first  discussion  dared  not  go  too 
far,  "are  we  not  rich  enough  to  live  in  Paris,  and  to 
live  there  magnificently  even?  " 

"Certainly,"  answered  Roger.  "Yet  I  wished  to 
learn  if  you  cared  more  for  Paris  than  for  me.  At  the 
first  trial,  you  have  settled  it,  —  thanks!  " 

"  Oh!  by  no  means;  you  are  deceived,"  cried  Sylvan- 
dire effusively,  as   soon    as  Roger  had  committed  the 


248  SYLVANDIRE. 

imprudence  of  letting  her  see  that  his  proposition  was 
only  a  jest.  "  By  no  means;  I  will  live  wherever  you 
wish,  my  darling,  and  provided  I  am  near  you  that  is 
all  I  require." 

She  was  quite  sure,  while  speaking  thus,  of  returning 
promptly  to  Paris. 

"  Yes, "  returned  Koger.  "  But  you  prefer  that  we 
should  go  back  to  the  capital  and  amuse  ourselves  a 
little  this  winter,  do  you  not?  " 

"You  are  wrong,  my  dear,  to  think  that.  I  have  no 
preference  for  one  place  more  than  another,  and  I  wish 
everything  that  you  wish." 

What  return  can  be  made  to  a  woman  so  submissive, 
except  to  outstrip  what  one  supposes  to  be  her  desire? 

Roger  therefore  gave  orders  to  make  immediate  prepa- 
ration for  their  departure,  and  they  returned  to  Paris. 

Roger  had  few  acquaintances  besides  his  old  friends, 
and  Sylvandire  had  none  at  all;  for  the  judges,  the 
counsellors,  and  the  lawyers  that  frequented  Maitre 
Bouteau's  hotel  could  not  be  termed  acquaintances. 
They  were  therefore  satisfied  to  write  to  Crette,  d'Her- 
bigny,  Clos-Renaud,  and  Chastellux  that  they  had  come 
back  to  Paris,  and  that  they  dined  every  day  at  two  and 
received  every  evening  at  eight. 

Madame  d'Anguilhem  did  the  honors  of  the  Hotel  de 
Bouzenois  marvellously  well,  and  was,  on  the  whole, 
accounted  charming. 

On  the  first  evening  the  Marquis  de  Crette  drew  Roger 
apart,  and  having  led  him  into  an  alcove,  he  said,  — 

"  My  dear  chevalier,  as  I  do  not  wish  to  be  debarred 
from  your  house  —  " 

"  What !  debarred  from  my  house !  "  interrupted  Roger. 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"My  dear  fellow,  you  are  young,"  answered  Crette. 


THE  CONJUGAL  HORIZON  CLOUDED.     249 

"  Your  heart  is  pure  and  your  soul  is  innocent.  Now 
learn  one  thing.  While  the  wife's  friends  are  almost 
always  the  husband's,  the  husband's  friends  are  rarely 
the  wife's." 

MVhy  is  that?" 

"  Why  1  It  would  take  too  long  to  tell  you.  Per- 
haps I  shall  write  two  or  three  volumes  on  the  subject 
some  day  when  I  have  learned  how  to  spell.  I  wish  to 
tell  you  now  that,  whatever  may  be  said  to  you  against 
me,  you  have  my  permission  to  believe  it,  save  only  if 
it  comes  to  pass  that  you  are  told  I  am  paying  court  to 
Madame  d'Anguilhem.  You  know  me,  Roger.  I  give 
you  my  word  as  a  gentleman  that  your  wife  shall  always 
be  as  sacred  to  me  as  if  she  were  my  sister. " 

"  And  never  shall  you  be  treated  in  my  house  as  other 
than  a  brother,"  replied  Eoger.  "  Never  shall  you  be 
excluded  from  my  house  until  it  pleases  you  to  exclude 
yourself.  Perish  wife  and  fortune  sooner  than  friend- 
ship like  ours  !  " 

"  Amen !  "  responded  Crette. 

The  marquis  was,  in  fact,  very  assiduous  in  his  attend- 
ance at  the  chevalier's.  But  he  was  so  scrupulous  as 
never  to  arrive  alone,  and  to  make  his  hours  coincide 
with  those  of  everybody  else.  Then,  too,  he  almost 
always  left  at  the  same  time  as  the  group  of  friends 
whom  he  had  brought.  In  a  word,  faithful  to  his 
promise,  Crette  limited  his  attentions  to  the  husband, 
causing  Madame  d'Anguilhem  to  begin  by  despising 
him  as  an  indifferent  person,  and  to  end  by  hating  him 
as  an  enemy. 

HoAvever,  in  a  short  time,  the  Hotel  de  Bouzenois, 
now  the  Hotel  d'Anguilhem,  became  the  rendezvous  of 
a  goodly  company.  Sylvandire,  beautiful  and  gracious, 
attracted   gallants    as  honey   draws  flies.     But   Crette, 


250  SYLVANDIRE. 

firm  at  his  post  with  d'Herbigny  and  Clos-RenauJ, 
drove  away  the  flies  Avith  his  conquering  airs  and  his 
jests,  which  were  always  applauded  by  Roger.  And  so 
six  months  sped  away  without  Madame  d'Anguilliem's 
having  given  any  grounds  for  gossip,  Avhatever  inclina- 
tion toward  it  she  might  at  heart,  perhaps,  have  had. 

She  would  have  liked,  nevertheless,  to  go  to  Ver- 
sailles, and  had,  with  this  object  in  view,  turned  all  her 
batteries  in  the  direction  of  religion.  But  the  marquis 
and  his  friends  were  one  and  all  outspoken  against  the 
Old  Woraan,  as  they  called  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
against  the  Jesuit,  as  they  called  Pere  Letellier,  against 
the  Antiquities,  as  they  styled  the  courtiers,  against  the 
old  Machine,  as  they  styled  Louis  XIV. 

In  this,  as  in  everything,  Roger  was  ranged  on  the 
side  of  his  friends.  And  when  Sylvandire  insisted 
upon  receiving  into  her  house  a  more  Christian  society, 
he  gave  her  to  understand  that  he  did  not  intend  to  con- 
vert the  hotel  into  a  monastery,  and  that  if  the  abbes 
appeared,  he  would  offset  the  black  cloth  with  muske- 
teers of  all  colors. 

As  will  be  seen,  there  was  a  great  distance  between 
Roger  of  Paris  and  Roger  of  Amboise,  between  Sylvan- 
dire's  husband  and  Constance's  lover,  between  the  free- 
thinker in  revolt  against  the  cloth  and  the  student 
resolved  to  turn  Jesuit. 

Sylvandire,  who  felt  that  she  was  not  the  stronger, 
was  forced  to  yield. 

About  this  time  Maitre  Bouteau  was  soliciting  the 
position  of  president.  Roger  spoke  of  his  father-in- 
law's  wishes  to  Crette,  and  Crette,  with  his  habitually 
obliging  spirit,  threw  himself  into  the  campaign,  his 
friends  doing  likewise.  But,  however  earnest  their 
solicitations,    however    skilful    their     plans,    they    saw 


THE  CONJUGAL  HORIZON  CLOUDED.     251 

clearly  that,  depending  only  on  their  own  forces,  they 
would  not  succeed. 

Some  one  then  spoke  to  Maitre  Bouteau  of  a  certain 
Marquis  de  Royancourt,  a  great  gulper  of  masses,  and 
one  high  in  favor  with  the  Maintenon.  Maitre  Bouteau 
promptly  recalled  to  mind  that  this  same  Marquis  de 
Koyancourt  had,  three  or  four  years  previously,  been 
engaged  in  a  lawsuit  which  he  had  won  before  the  tri- 
bunal of  which  he  was  tlie  conseiller-rap2)orteur. 

Maitre  Bouteau  proceeded  to  call  on  Monsieur  de 
Eoyancourt,  by  whom  he  was  very  well  received,  and 
he  reminded  the  marquis  of  the  incident  of  the  suit 
which  tlie  latter  remembered  perfectly. 

Now,  as  Maitre  Bouteau  thought  the  recommendation 
of  a  pretty  woman  could  do  his  affair  no  harm,  he  re- 
quested Soger's  permission  to  present  Monsieur  de  Koy- 
ancourt to  him  and  his  wife,  —  a  presentation  to  which 
Koger,  not  being  distrustful,  offered  no  opposition. 

The  Marquis  de  Royancourt  was  therefore  introduced 
to  Roger,  who  made  a  thousand  polite  speeches,  and  to 
Sylvandire,  who  modestly  cast  down  her  eyes. 

Roger  showed  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  every  cour- 
tesy, partly  out  of  politeness,  and  partly  because  he  pre- 
ferred to  stand  well  rather  than  ill  with  him.  He  was 
an  all-powerful  favorite  admitted  to  the  solemn  suppers 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  lording  it  over  the  ante- 
chamber of  Pere  Letellier. 

On  the  next  day  after  this  visit  Maitre  Bouteau  was 
appointed  president. 

It  was  quite  natural  that  one  should  entertain  with 
his  best  a  man  to  whom  one  was  under  such  obligations. 
Therefore,  on  his  second  visit,  the  marquis  was  still 
more  feted  than  at  the  first.  As  for  Monsieur  de  Roy- 
ancourt, he  expressed  to  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  his 


252  SYLVANDIRE. 

surprise  that  such  a  man  as  he,  young,  rich,  and  talented, 
shoukl  not  solicit  some  place  at  court  or  in  the  army. 
He  obligingly  tendered  his  services.  Roger,  who  at  all 
times  had  possessed  a  certain  fund  of  ambition  deep  in 
his  heart,  replied  only  with  the  most  sincere  thanks. 

Thus  far,  —  he  avowed  to  Crette  who  felt  for  the  new- 
comer a  degree  of  antipathy ,  —  thus  far,  we  say ,  the  mar- 
quis had  in  his  eyes  appeared  to  be  very  kind  and 
gracious. 

But,  as  we  have  implied,  there  was  a  difference  of 
opinion  between  the  two  friends,  Crette  looked  upon 
the  Marquis  de  Eoyancourt  with  an  unfavorable  eye.  He 
knew  how  tortuous  were  the  paths  of  tliose  courtiers  with 
the  sanctimonious  ways,  who  had  just  established  them- 
selves as  extinguishers  upon  all  the  brilliant  pleasures 
that  had  marked  the  first  two-thirds  of  the  great  king's 
reign.  "  Tartufe  "  would  certainly  not  have  been  played 
in  the  period  of  Monsieur  de  Eoyancourt's  influence. 

As  for  Sylvandire,  she  begged  her  husband  to  accept 
the  good  offices  of  Madame  de  Maintenon's  favorite. 

"  We  shall  be  admitted  at  Versailles,"  she  said. 
"Perhaps,  even,  we  shall  be  assigned  an  apartment." 

"  What  then  1  "  replied  Crette.  "  Is  it  not  much 
better  to  be  one's  own  master,  as  Koger  is,  than  to  have 
to  obey  the  peevish  whims  of  an  old  king  always  in  a 
bad  humor,  and  Avhom  nobody  can  amuse  any  longer, 
not  even  Madame  de  Maintenon  ?  As  to  apartments, 
you  have  a  dozen  of  them  here,  in  every  way  more  con- 
venient, I  promise  you,  than  those  at  Versailles. 
Granted,  however,  that  a  regiment  is  given  to  d'Anguil- 
hem.  Why,  by  all  the  devils!  although  d'Anguilhem 
is  as  brave  as  Alexander  or  Hannibal  or  Csesar,  to  me 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  the  least  vocation  for  war.  I 
had  a  regiment  once  myself.     Well,  I  sold  out.     I  will 


THE  CONJUGAL  HORIZON  CLOUDED.     253 

resume  active  service  wlien  Madame  de  Maintenon  is  no 
longer  the  minister  of  war. " 

"You,  monsieur,"  sharply  retorted  Sylvandire,  "are 
sated  with  pleasures  and  honors,  and  I  can  understand 
your  speaking  thus;  but  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem  and  I 
are  novices  and  are  thirsty." 

Crette  then  turned  upon  his  friend  a  questioning 
look,  to  which  Roger  replied  by  a  sign  in  the  negative. 
Vanquished,  Sylvandire  went  to  find  her  father  and  sent 
Maitre  Bouteau  to  the  charge.  Maitre  Bouteau  urged 
forward  Monsieur  de  Royancourt. 

It  happened  that  one  day  at  a  banquet,  one  Wednes- 
day, I  think,  Monsieur  de  Eoyancourt,  who  fasted  four 
times  a  week,  affected  to  eat  only  fish,  and  reproached 
the  chevalier  politely  but  quite  severely,  nevertheless, 
for  the  small  observance  he  gave  to  the  commandments 
of  the  church. 

Crette  and  his  friends  anticipated  a  sharp  retort  on 
the  part  of  d'Anguilhem  to  that  importunate  personage, 
but  they  waited  for  some  time.  At  last  Roger  replied, 
but  less  sharply  than  the  marquis'  unseemly  reproach 
merited. 

"Come,  come,"  said  Crette  aside  to  his  friend;  "  we 
are  declining,  and  the  Royancourt  is  in  the  ascendency. 
Look  out,  d'Anguilhem,  look  out,  you  are  ruled." 

In  fact  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  became  a  daily  guest 
at  the  hotel.  He  arrived  with  a  grand  train,  with  mag- 
nificent horses  and  insolent  valets.  From  him  Sylvan- 
dire learned  all  the  news  of  the  great  world  in  which 
she  longed  to  appear,  but  which  was  closed  to  her,  like 
one  of  those  enchanted  gardens  of  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  which  are  guarded  by  dragons. 

The  dragon  that  forbade  her  entrance  into  this  garden 
was  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  and  she  hated  him  cordially. 


254  SYLVANDIRE. 

Koger,  too,  began  to  see  clearly  through  these  manoeu- 
vres, and  the  new-comer  tried  his  patience  exceedingly. 

"  This  Royancourt  annoys  me  greatly, "  Roger  said  to 
his  friend  one  morning.  "  He  took  my  wife  and  my 
father-in-law  yesterday  to  that  Jesuit,  Letellier.  All 
this  sermonizing  suits  me  little." 

"Well,  go  away  from  it  all,"  said  Crette,  who  was 
on  the  most  cordially  familiar  footing  with  him.  "  Take 
Sylvandire  into  Touraine,  leave  me  with  full  power,  and 
in  your  absence,  never  fear,  1  will  clear  the  premises." 

"  Parbleu  !  that  is  an  idea!  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

Thereupon,  he  made  everything  ready  for  their  depar- 
ture, but  said  not  a  word  to  any  one,  save  that  two 
hours  before  entering  the  carriage  he  notified  Sylvan- 
dire  that  he  should  take  her  into  the  country. 

Sylvandire  was  astounded  at  this  bold  stroke,  of 
which  she  had  deemed  Roger  incapable.  Then  she 
wished  to  discuss  the  subject,  but  Roger  stood  his 
ground.  Then  she  wept,  but  Roger  was  insensible  to 
her  tears.  Then  the  hour  arrived,  and  she  had  to  start 
without  receiving  the  adieux  of  Maitre  Bouteau  or  those 
of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt. 

"  Oh!  this  is  monstrous!  "  exclaimed  Sylvandire,  as 
she  entered  her  carriage. 

"But,"  replied  the  chevalier  as  he  took  his  place 
beside  her,  "  but,  my  darling,  since  you  are  happy 
wherever  I  am,  as  you  have  assured  me,  of  what  do  you 
complain?     Let  me  hear." 

"Monsieur,  you  might  at  least  have  warned  me  in 
time  to  take  leave  of  my  father  and  my  friends." 

"  Impossible,  my  angel.  The  idea  of  going  occurred 
to  me  just  when  I  communicated  it  to  you." 

"  Are  we  to  stay  long  on  your  estates  ?  I  warn  you 
beforehand  that  I  hate  the  province. " 


THE   CONJUGAL   IIOIIIZON   CLOUDED.  255 

"But  nothing  compels  us  to  stay  there  eternally. 
We  shall  stay  as  long  as  we  are  both  pleased. " 

And  just  then  the  postilion  cracked  his  whip,  and 
the  carriage  dashed  off  at  full  speed. 

At  the  fourth  relay  they  stopped  for  supper.  Sylvan- 
dire  requested  that  she  might  send  news  of  themselves 
to  her  father,  to  which  Roger  was  not  at  all  opposed. 

Sylvandire  then  wrote  a  letter,  whose  contents  Koger's 
delicacy  would  not  permit  him  to  seek  to  learn.  How- 
ever, that  letter  finished,  she  continued  to  write  others, 
which  proceeding  gave  rise  to  some  suspicions.  But 
what  Koger  dreaded  above  all  things  was  a  first  scene 
that  should  be  at  all  serious;  for  he  knew  that  the 
conjugal  sea,  once  troubled,  would  never  again  become 
perfectly  calm. 

Nor  was  he  willing,  moreover,  to  question  the  maid 
who  posted  the  letters.  It  seemed  to  him  an  indignity 
to  communicate  suspicions  of  such  a  nature.  Then, 
too,  perhaps  he  reckoned  that,  lucky  so  far,  his  star 
would  always  remain  bright. 

At  Chartres,  Sylvandire  asked  him  to  stay  a  few  hours 
that  she  might  pray  in  the  cathedral. 

Since  Sylvandire  had,  as  we  have  said,  affected  great 
piety,  from  the  time  of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's  appear- 
ance at  their  house,  her  request  did  not  surprise  Roger. 
Yet,  as  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  himself  during 
those  three  or  four  hours,  he  informed  Sylvandire  that 
he  would  take  a  horse  and  visit  d'Herbigny,  who  had  a 
country-seat  in  the  neighborhood.  Sylvandire  took  her 
way  toward  the  cathedral,  and  Roger  set  out  for  the 
viscount's.  Roger  remained  there  three  hours;  but  as 
he  was  less  intimate  with  d'Herbigny  than  with  Crette, 
he  said  to  him  only  that  he  and  his  wife  were  taking  a 
pleasure -trip  to  Touraine. 


256  SYLVANDIRE. 

On  going  back  to  the  inn,  Roger  learned  that  Sylvan - 
dire  had  not  returned.  He  waited  about  an  hour. 
Then,  as  she  did  not  return,  he  walked  as  far  as  the 
cathedral.  Sylvandire  was  not  at  the  cathedral  any  more 
than  she  was  at  tlie  inn.  He  therefore  went  back  to  the 
Golden  Cross,  called  for  the  host,  and  asked  for  infor- 
mation. He  then  learned  that  Sylvandire  had  gone  off 
in  her  post-chaise  with  her  maid.  This  was  a  cruel 
blow,  yet  he  preserved  entire  presence  of  mind,  and  said 
to  the  landlord,  — 

"  Nothing  was  wanting,  was  there?  " 

"No,  monsieur,"  replied  the  host;  "and  madame 
appeared  to  be  quite  satisfied." 

"  That  is  well,"  returned  Roger,  and  he  ascended  the 
stairs  with  wrath  in  his  heart. 

He  entered  the  room  that  his  wife  had  occupied,  and 
found  on  the  toilet-table,  still  in  disorder,  a  letter  from 
Sylvandire,  on  which  his  address  was  traced  in  small 
characters,  very  firm  and  very  bold. 

This  is  what  the  letter  contained :  — 

"  Monsieur,  —  You  thought  proper  to  take  me  from  home 
upon  two  hours'  notice.  I,  who  am  a  woman,  and  under 
this  title  lay  claim  to  a  few  more  privileges  than  you,  am 
returning  to  Paris,  and  I  notify  you  two  hours  afterwards. 

"  Sylvandire. 

"  Continue  your  journey  or  come  back.  Do  not  incon- 
venience yourself.  You  know  I  have  my  father  and  my 
house  in  Paris." 

"  She  has  outwitted  me, "  said  Roger,  "  but  she  shall 
pay  for  it.  Ah!  Crette,  you  Avere  quite  right.  I  am 
no  longer  master;  but  let  us  wait  a  little,  and  we  shall 
see." 


THE   CONJUGAL   HOKIZON   TEMPESTUOUS.        257 


XIX. 

HOW     THE     CONJUGAL      HORIZON    OF     THE    CHEVALIER 
d'ANGUILHEM    grew    suddenly    TEMPESTUOUS. 

As  we  have  said,  it  was  a  cruel  blow,  and  the  more 
cruel  in  that  it  struck  a  man  still  on  the  threshold  of 
life,  still  in  the  dawn  of  illusion,  one  whose  heart  had 
already  suffered  much,  and  tlie  happiness  of  which  had 
been  too  brief  for  it  to  be  surfeited. 

Roger,  therefore,  felt  at  once  all  the  transports  of  rage, 
shame,  and  jealousy. 

He  ordered  Breton,  his  valet,  to  procure  three  post- 
horses,  and  as  soon  as  the  horses  were  at  the  door  of 
the  inn,  he  leaped  upon  one,  and  Breton  sprang  upon 
another.  The  postilion  bestrode  the  third,  and  all 
three  were  off  at  full  gallop. 

Motion  is  one  of  the  irresistible  necessities  of  tortured 
souls.  The  gallop  of  a  horse  that  is  carrying  us  toward 
certainty,  a  greater  misfortune,  perhaps,  but  sometimes 
also  toward  revenge,  Is  a  species  of  physical  balm  poured 
\ipon  the  wounds  of  the  soul.  The  road  vanishes  behind 
us;  the  trees  flee.  One  feels  that  one  is  advancing, 
nearing,  arriving.  A  thousand  feverish  visions  pass 
before  the  eyes.  A  thousand  plans,  each  more  senseless 
than  the  other,  spring  up  in  the  heated  brain  only  to  be 
overthrown.  The  madder  the  horse's  pace  the  more  he 
is  urged;  and  a  demon  shrieks  in  your  ear,  "Faster! 
faster!  faster!  " 

17 


258  SYLVANDIRE. 

Roger  made  tlie  journey  in  five  hours  without  resting 
a  moment  save  to  change  horses;  and  yet  he  did  not 
overtake  Sylvandire.  lireton  was  bruised  to  a  pulp, 
but  he  himself  was  unconscious  even  of  fatigue. 

When  Koger  turned  into  the  court  of  his  hotel,  Syl- 
vandire had  been  at  home  an  hour  and  a  half.  Roger 
entered  the  salon,  booted  and  dusty,  with  riding-whip 
in  hand.  Sylvandire  was  already  arrayed  in  evening 
dress,  and  was  gracefully  leaning  on  her  elljow  on  a 
sofa.  She  was  conversing  with  Monsieur  de  Royancourt 
and  three  or  four  of  his  friends  whom  he  had  introduced 
at  the  Hotel  d'Anguilhem. 

Such  audacity  astounded  Roger.  He  felt  his  legs 
failing  under  him.  He  leaned  against  the  door.  He 
was  as  pale  as  death. 

"  It  is  Monsieur  de  la  Fontaine's  fable  over  again," 
murmured  Roger.  "  '  La  Lice  et  sa  compagne.^  There 
are  four  of  them.  Well,  I  will  get  Crette  and  two 
friends.  Then  we  will  take  a  turn  behind  the  Convent 
de  Saint  Sacrement." 

However,  on  Roger's  arrival,  all  rose  and  pressed 
around  him,  displaying  so  much  politeness  in  behalf  of 
the  new-comer  that  none  but  a  rustic  would  not  have 
waited  for  a  different  occasion  to  exhibit  liis  anger. 

Besides  Roger  instinctively  felt  that  sooner  or  later 
the  opportunity  would  come. 

As  for  Sylvandire,  she  contented  herself  with  making 
him  a  sign  with  her  hand.  Then  with  a  little  gesture 
full  of  pouting  coquetry,  she  cried,  — 

"  What!  you  could  appear  in  such  disorder  —  ah!  bad 
husband  that  you  are!  I  certainly  think  I  deserve 
that  a  suitable  toilet  should  be  made  by  one  entering 
my  salon.      Will  you  not  go  and  dress,  my  dear?  " 

Roger  stood  aghast  at  her   self-possession.     He  was 


THE   CONJUGAL   HORIZON   TEMPESTUOUS.        259 

seized  by  a  strong  desire  to  clear  the  house  on  the  in' 
stant  with  the  whip  that  he  held  in  his  hand;  hut  the 
dread  of  scandal  restrained  him. 

"You  are  right,  niadame,"  he  responded.  "But,  as 
3'ou  knew  that  I  was  about  to  return,  I  had  hoped  to 
find  you  somewhat  more  retired." 

And  he  stared  steadily  at  IMonsieur  de  Eoyancourt 
for  the  purpose  of  causing  him  to  feel  that  the  admoni- 
tion was  aimed  especially  at  him. 

Like  well-bred  people,  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's 
three  friends  understood  that  they  must  raise  the  siege. 
They,  therefore,  incontinently  withdrew.  As  to  Mon- 
sieur de  Ivoyancourt,  he  lingered  behind  them  a  few 
moments.  Then,  rising  in  turn,  he  saluted  Sylvandire 
and  Roger,  and  effected  his  retreat,  having  delayed  it, 
undoubtedly,  only  by  way  of  silent  protest  against  the 
husband's  manifesto. 

"  What,  monsieur!  "  exclaimed  Sylvandire  as  soon  as 
Monsieur  de  Royancourt  had  withdrawn,  "do  you  thus 
drive  people  from  my  house  1  " 

"What  do  you  call  your  house,  madame?"  retorted 
Roger.  "  My  first  impression  is  that  it  would  sound  as 
well  to  speak  of  otir  house." 

"Ours,  yours,  or  mine,  no  matter  which,  I  shall  not 
discuss  words  with  you;  but,  once  for  all,  I  intend  to 
receive  here  whom  I  like. " 

"  And  I  —  intend  to  drive  away  from  here  whom  I 
dislike." 

"  You  are  a  very  —  " 

"Well,  speak  out." 

"A  very  provincial  gentleman." 

"  And  you  are  a  sharp  little  limb  of  the  law." 

"  Monsieur!     Do  you  think  to  frighten  me?  " 

"  Frighten  or  not,  you  are  going  to  set  out  with  me  at 


260  SYLVANDIRE. 

once  for  Anguilliem,  Tliis  second  time,  however,  you 
will  not  return  so  quickly  as  you  did  the  first  time." 

"  You  speak  in  this  manner  because  you  think  me 
alone  and  helpless,"  said  Sylvandire,  throwing  off  all 
restraint.  "  Ihit  I  warn  you  that  you  deceive  your- 
self, and,  upon  my  word,  you  will  find  that  there 
are  those  who  will  make  you  rei)ent  of  your  behavior 
toward  me." 

"All!  your  Marquis  de  Eoyancourt  !  "  cried  Koger 
with  exasperation.  "  Ah  !  you  mean  that  Marquis  de 
Eoyancourt  of  yours,  do  you  not,  madame?  Well,  in 
one  hour  from  now,  your  Marquis  de  Royancourt  shall 
hear  from  me,  and,  2^(1  nlieu  /  if,  as  I  judged  but  just 
now,  he  understands  neither  my  looks  nor  Avords,  he 
will,  I  hope,  understand  actions  at  least." 

Sylvandire  knew  of  d'Anguilhem's  affair  with  the 
Kollinskis,  which  had  made  some  noise  in  society. 
Besides,  she  had  often  heard  of  her  husband's  courage 
and  skill  from  Crette  and  d'Herbigny.  She  was,  there- 
fore, very  much  afraid  of  what  might  happen,  and, 
darting  after  Roger,  she  stopped  him  as  he  was  setting 
foot  on  the  stairs  to  ascend  to  his  own  room  for  the  pur- 
pose of  changing  his  attire;  for  Roger  was  one  of  the 
men  who  perfectly  comprehend  that  when  honoring  his 
enemy  with  a  proposal  to  cut  his  throat,  the  proposition 
must  be  made  in  velvet  coat  and  lace  ruffles. 

But  Sylvandire  did  not  desire  a  scandal,  as  she  had 
grand  schemes  based  on  Monsieur  de  Royancourt. 

She  clung,  then,  to  Roger's  arm,  as  we  have  said,  and 
sought  by  her  tears  to  soften  his  wrath.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  Roger  had  seen  Sylvandire  Aveep.  His  heart 
was  not  iron;  and  so,  in  this  struggle,  when  he  should 
have  won  at  least  the  field  of  battle,  he  lost  all.  That 
very  evening,  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  played  a  game 


THE   CONJUGAL   IIOEIZON   TEMPESTUOUS.        261 

of  backgammon  in  tlie  salon  with  Maitre  Bouteau,  and 
Sylvandire  was  smiling. 

On  the  same  evening,  Crette,  having  learned  of  his 
friend's  return,  presented  himself  at  the  Hotel  d'Anguil- 
hem;  but  Sylvandire's  orders  had  been  issued,  and  he 
was  told  that,  while  monsieur  and  madame  had  indeed 
returned,  they  were  not  receiving. 

On  the  morrow  the  marquis  wrote  to  Roger  that  he 
should  never  again  set  foot  in  his  house,  since  its  door 
had  been  closed  to  him  at  an  hour  when  he  had  seen  in 
the  court,  at  the  very  foot  of  the  steps,  the  coach  of 
Monsieur  de  Royancourt. 

He  added  that  their  friendship  was  ended  forever. 

In  despair,  Roger  hastened  to  Crette's;  but  he  found 
him  deeply  wounded. 

Roger  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  him  that  he  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  orders  given  on  the  evening 
before.  Sylvandire  had  assured  him  that  there  had  been 
a  misunderstanding,  and  he  was  absolutely  determined 
to  convince  his  friend  on  this  point;  but  Crette  yielded 
with  difficulty  and  upon  one  condition. 

"  Listen,  chevalier,"  said  the  marquis.  "  That  refusal 
was  an  insult,  an  insult  given  by  your  people,  and, 
consequently,  in  the  eyes  of  everybody,  proceeding  from 
you.  Reparation  must  be  made,  therefore.  Some  day 
when  my  carriage  is  at  your  door.  Monsieur  de  Royan- 
court  must  receive  the  same  answer  that  was  given  to 
me.  On  this  condition,  I  will  overlook  what  has  hap- 
pened and  say  no  more  about  it. " 

Roger  promised  the  marquis  that  it  should  be  as  he 
wished. 

He  then  went  home  and  informed  his  wife  of  the 
agreement  that  he  had  just  made  with  his  friend. 

Sylvandire  began  to  laugh. 


262  SYLVANDIRE. 

Hut  Tioger  was  by  no  means  in  a  mood  for  josting,  and 
he  insisted  very  seriously,  and  pronounced,  for  tlie  first 
time,  the  terrible  words  that  a  wife  never  forgets  and  a 
husband  always  repents, — 

"It  is  my  will." 

Then  there  was  a  dreadful  quarrel.  Sylvandire 
showed  that  she  was  really  a  veritable  despot,  and  there 
followed  between  the  two  a  long  succession  of  "  I 
insist !  "  and  "  I  will  not !  " 

"Well,  if  you  will  not,"  at  last  said  Iloger,  who 
thought  to  triumph  by  means  of  one  of  those  speeches 
so  terrible  to  a  good  woman,  "  well,  if  you  will  not,  I 
shall  think,  madame,  that  you  entertain  very  peculiar 
sentiments  toward  Monsieur  de  Royancourt. " 

"  Think  whatever  you  are  pleased  to  think,"  returned 
Sylvandire. 

"  If  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  does  not  leave  my 
house,"  said  Roger,  "then  I  shall  leave  it;  but,  take 
heed,  madame,  I  shall  not  enter  it  again." 

"As  you  please,  monsieur.  The  world  is  wide,  you 
are  young,  and  travel  will  improve  you." 

"Reflect,  madame,  I  leave  this  moment." 

"  Go,  monsieur,  I  am  not  keeping  you,"  was  Sylvan- 
dire's  response. 

Roger  had  taken  a  false  step,  and  he  perceived  it,  but 
it  was  too  late.  Instead  of  discussing  the  subject  with 
his  wife,  he  should  have  given  orders  at  his  door,  and 
all  would  have  been  said.  He  had  broached  polemics, 
and  the  demon  of  feminine  skill  had  got  the  better  of 
his  simple  wrath. 

"  Well,  are  you  still  there  ?  "  asked  Sylvandire,  seeing 
that  he  had  stopped,  stupefied  at  such  audacity. 

Roger  took  three  steps  toward  that  shameless  woman ; 
but  a  sense  of  his  own  dignity  checked  him. 


THE   CONJUGAL   HOKIZON   TEMPESTUOUS.        263 

"  Breton,"  he  said  to  his  valet  de  chambre,  "  have  my 
trunks  and  my  carriage  ready  in  an  hour." 

Then  he  left  the  salon  without  Sylvandire's  taking  a 
step  or  saying  a  word  to  detain  him,  and  he  ascended  to 
his  room. 

The  hour  sped  quickly.  It  was  certainly  the  most 
agitated  and  the  most  sorrowful  hour  of  lioger's  life. 
At  the  slightest  sound  he  trembled  and  listened,  think- 
ing to  see  his  wife  enter,  with  repentance  in  her  heart, 
entreaty  on  her  lips,  and  tears  in  her  eyes.  He  would 
have  given  ten  years  of  his  life  that  Sylvandire  might 
have  taken  such  a  course.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
would  have  given  up  all  his  life  rather  than  make  a 
single  advance  toward  her.  His  sole  virtue  in  such  a 
case  was  obstinacy.  It  is  much  to  have  a  strong  head 
when  one  has  a  weak  heart. 

The  hour  was  spent  amid  such  anguish  and  heart- 
beating  as  cannot  be  described,  and  Roger  took  his  hat 
and  descended  to  the  salon. 

Sylvandire  sat  alone  at  her  tambour  embroidery. 

"  And  so  the  thing  is  decided,"  she  said,  as  indiffer- 
ently as  if  she  were  speaking  of  a  promenade  in  the  Bois 
de  Satory,  "  you  are  leaving  us?  " 

"  Yes,  madame, "  replied  Roger,  amazed  at  her  cool- 
ness; "  and  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  good-day." 

"  When  shall  we  see  you  again  1  " 

"  I  shall  have  the  honor  to  apprise  you  hereafter." 

"  Adieu,  chevalier." 

"Adieu,  madame." 

And,  refusing  the  hand  extended  to  him  by  Sylvan- 
dire, Roger  precipitately  rushed  down  the  flight  of  steps, 
sprang  into  his  carriage,  and  shouted,  — 

"  Drive  to  the  Hotel  de  Crette." 

At  that  name  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  Syl- 


264  SYLVANDIEE. 

vandire  angrily  shut  the  salon  window  which  had  re- 
mained half  open,  and  behind  which  she  was  watching 
to  see  what  happened. 

Crette  sincerely  pitied  his  friend. 

Roger  wished  to  go  and  seek  Monsieur  de  Royancourt, 
to  provoke  him  to  a  duel,  but  Crette  restrained  him. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "you  are  in  a  false  posi- 
tion. You  have  only  yourself  to  complain  of.  You 
have  brought  it  about.  You  must  be  patient.  Watch 
your  wife  and  the  marquis,  get  possession  of  proof,  and 
then,  supported  by  your  evidence,  send  a  challenge  to 
Monsieur  de  Eoyancourt.  But  you  have  seen  nothing ; 
you  know  nothing.  Yesterday,  moreover,  you  received 
the  man  in  your  own  house.  Has  anything  new  hap- 
pened since  then?  Have  you  anything  to  reproach  him 
with  since  yesterday?  No;  he  has  not  even  entered 
your  house.  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  will  tell  you 
that  he  does  not  know  what  you  are  talking  about;  that 
you  are  a  visionary;  and  everybody  will  blame  you,  I 
first  of  all." 

"  What  is  your  advice,  then?  " 

"  Why,  bless  you!  go  away,  since  you  have  announced 
that  you  are  going  on  a  journey.  Go  to  Italy ,  Germany, 
England.  Take  a  dancer,  take  anything,  in  fact,  that 
will  distract  you." 

"  I  detest  women  !  " 

"  Well,  yes,  that  is  understood,  of  course;  but  there 
is  nothing  to  console  a  love  like  a  fancy.  Why,  no 
longer  than  eight  days  ago,  if  it  had  not  been  for  little 
Poussette,  I  should  have  blown  out  my  brains  or  turned 
Trappist.     Try  it." 

"  No,  I  am  going  away.  I  shall  leave  Paris.  I  shall 
go  mad  if  I  stay  here." 

"  Why  do  you  not  pay  a  visit  to  Anguilhem?  " 


THE  CONJUGAL  HORIZON  TEMPESTUOUS.    265 

"  And  wliat  excuse  could  I  give  for  my  wife's 
absence  ?  " 

"  Pooh !  Mademoiselle  Constance  will  not  ask  you  for 
one." 

"  Constance  has  forgotten  me,  and  she  has  done  well. 
Constance  is  married,  without  doubt.  Ah!  Constance, 
Constance,  what  a  difference  between  you  and  Syl- 
vandire  !  " 

"  Ah!  my  friend,  you  are  quite  right.  Nothing  less 
resembles  one  woman  than  another  woman.  Well,  go 
to  England.  You  will  get  some  pretty  ideas  on  the 
way  to  reduce  the  sex  to  obedience.  Our  neighbors 
across  the  channel  are  extremely  knowing  on  the 
subject. " 

"  Faith,  I  have  a  great  mind  to  follow  your  advice." 

Crette  embraced  his  friend,  and  made  no  effort  to 
comfort  him.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that,  for  such 
hurts,  time  is  the  only  balm. 

Eoger  Avent  to  England.  He  stayed  there  three 
months,  and  he  saw  two  Englishmen  that  were  unfortu- 
nate in  their  marriages,  who  led  their  wives  to  market 
with  ropes  around  their  necks. 

One  sold  his  wife  for  ten  guineas,  and  the  other  for 
seven. 

"  Pardieii  !  "  exclaimed  Roger.  "  I  would  give  mine 
away  for  nothing,  for  my  part!  I  would  even  pay  some- 
thing to  boot." 

Unfortunately  Roger  was  not  an  Englishman. 

At  the  end  of  three  months  he  was  seized  with  a  long- 
ing to  return  to  France.  As  he  was  perfectly  free 
and  nothing  hindered  his  doing  as  he  pleased,  he  imme- 
diately set  out  for  Dover  and  embarked. 

Twelve  hours  later  he  landed  at  Calais,  having  suffered 
greatly  at  sea,  which   had   been  of  the   roughest.     As 


266  SYLVANDIRE. 

soon  as  he  had  set  foot  on  the  wharf,  he  was  met  hy 
Crette's  valet,  who  Avas  himself  waiting  to  embark. 
Koger  recognized  him. 

"What!  you  here,  Basque?"  he  said.  "What  the 
devil  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"Ah!  mon  Dleu,  monsieur  le  chevalier,"  returned 
Basque.  "  It  was  the  will  of  heaven  that  I  should  meet 
you  here.     I  was  going  in  search  of  you." 

"  For  what  purpose  1  " 

"  To  carry  you  a  letter  from  my  master.  But  speak 
softly,  if  you  please,  monsieur  le  chevalier,  for  I  fear 
some  one  is  listening  to  us." 

"  And  who  should  listen,  pray  ?  " 

"  Everybody,  monsieur,  everybody.  You  do  not 
know,  then,  what  has  happened  over  here?  " 

"  Whereabouts  over  here  ?  " 

"In  Paris." 

"  It  is  three  months  since  I  have  had  news." 

"  Well ,  my  master  was  questioned  day  before  yester- 
day and  threatened  with  the  Bastile. " 

"  What  is  that  ?    Crette  threatened  with  the  Bastile  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur  le  chevalier,  it  is  true." 

"  And  why  the  Bastile  ?  " 

"  Because  he  challenged  Monsieur  de  Boyancourt, 
who  would  not  fight." 

"  And  you  say  that  you  have  a  letter  for  me  1  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Which  gives  the  details?  " 

"Probably." 

"  Then  deliver  the  letter." 

"  Ah,  dame!  monsieur,  it  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  do, 
seeing  that  it  is  sewed  into  the  lining  of  my  vest;  but 
if  monsieur  will  go  with  me  to  the  Hotel  du 
Dauphin  —  " 


THE  CONJUGAL  HORIZON  TEMPESTUOUS.   267 

"  But  why  all  these  precautions  1  " 

"  Monsieur  will  presently  he  informed,  without  douht, 
on  reading  my  master's  letter.  When  monsieur  le 
marquis  saw  the  police  officers  enter  his  hotel,  he  sus- 
pected something,  and  he  at  once  wrote  this  letter  to 
monsieur  le  chevalier,  ordering  me  to  conceal  it  care- 
fully, and  then  he  said,  '  Go,  little  Basque,  and  do  not 
rest  until  you  have  found  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem.' 
I  started  immediately,  and  here  I  am." 

"  Then  let  us  go  to  the  Dauphin,  my  friend,  without 
further  delay,  for  I  am  in  great  haste  to  read  that 
letter. " 

They  moved  off  at  once  with  long  strides,  and,  on 
reaching  the  hotel,  they  ascended  to  a  room  and  locked 
themselves  in. 

"  It  is  disrespectful  to  monsieur  to  remove  my  jacket 
in  his  presence,"  said  Basque,  "  but  I  cannot  avoid  it." 

"  Go  on,  and  be  quick  about  it,  my  lad." 

Basque  ripped  the  lining  of  his  jacket  and  drew  forth 
a  letter  which  he  handed  to  Roger. 

Eoger  eagerly  opened  it,  and  read  as  follows:  — 

"My  dear  Chevalier,  —  This  is  the  fourth  letter  that 
I  have  written  to  you ;  the  three  others  have  undoubtedly 
been  intercepted.  Your  wife  has  disappeared,  and  in  spite 
of  every  effort  I  have  been  unable  to  discover  her  where- 
abouts. Yesterday  morning,  I  met  Monsieur  de  Royancourt 
on  the  Cours-la-Reine,  and,  as  I  had  no  doubt  that  he  was 
concerned  in  Sylvandire's  disappearance,  I  told  him  outright 
that  he  was  a  miscreant.  Thereupon,  supposing  that  he 
would  answer  me  as  a  gentleman  should,  I  drew  my  sword ; 
but  I  was  deceived.  To  my  great  astonishment,  Monsieur 
de  Royancourt  appeared  not  to  have  heard  me.  At  the 
same  time,  I  saw  some  officers  of  police  approaching,  and 
d'Herbigny  carried  me  off.  Last  evening  I  sent  Clos- 
Renaud  and  Chastellux  to  him  to  make  an  appointment ; 


268  SYLVANDIRE. 

they  were  not  received,  however.  This  morning  they  have 
come  to  arrest  me,  it  is  likely.  I  am  despatching  Basque  to 
you ;  if  he  is  so  lucky  as  to  find  you,  don't  lose  a  moment, 
but  hasten  back  to  Paris  and  clear  all  this  up." 

"Oh!  yes,"  cried  Eoger.  "Yes,  I  will  start  for 
Paris." 

And  he  summoned  a  post-horse  at  once,  with  the 
fixed  determination,  since  his  wife's  imprudence  gave 
him  just  grounds,  of  slaying  Monsieur  de  Royancourt 
and  all  his  friends  whom  he  might  encounter,  were  there 
a  hundred,  a  thousand  of  them;  and,  as  one  may  readily 
believe,  the  speed  of  his  journey  only  heated  his  blood. 
But,  arrived  at  the  Cours-la-E.eine,  as  the  chevalier 
was  about  to  enter  Paris,  an  officer  stopped  his  chaise 
while  he  bowed  almost  to  the  ground.  Roger's  first 
desire  was  to  run  the  man  through  and  through  with 
his  sword,  and  inaugurate  with  him  the  butchery  that 
he  meditated;  but  the  officer  took  three  steps  backward, 
and,  producing  a  document  from  his  pocket,  said,  — 

"By  the  order  of  the  king,  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem, 
you  are  commanded  to  deliver  up  your  sword." 

An  hour  later  the  chevalier  was  registered  at  For- 
r^vgque. 


THE   CHEVALIER   RESOLVES   TO   LEAVE    PRISON.    269 


XX. 


FINDING  THAT  PERMISSION  TO  LEAVE  IS  NOT  GRANTED 
HIM,  THE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM  RESOLVES  TO 
LEAVE    WITHOUT    PERMISSION. 

A  MAN  struck  by  a  thunder-bolt  does  not  burst  into  tears 
and  lamentations;  on  the  contrary,  he  remains  motion- 
less, senseless,  breathless,  bewildered;  but,  under  the 
apparent  apathy,  nature  acts,  the  connection  between 
senses  and  organs,  for  a  moment  broken  off,  is  re-estab- 
lished in  his  being,  and  feeling  returns  when  he  has 
regained  strength  enough  to  realize  his  condition  and  to 
endure  it. 

Eoger,  therefore,  entered  For-l'Ev§que  like  one  struck 
by  a  thunder-bolt.  He  had  not  notified  Basque  of  his 
determination ;  he  had,  on  the  contrary,  advised  him 
to  lie  down,  advice  which  Basque  had  gratefully  taken, 
and  while  the  poor  devil  was  sleeping  with  clinched  fists, 
Roger  had  leaped  upon  the  post-horse  and  started  at  full 
speed  for  Paris. 

He  had  not  been  willing  to  have  Basque  follow  him, 
in  the  first  place,  because  the  poor  fellow  was  worn  out, 
and  next,  for  fear  of  compromising  Crette.  Moreover, 
he  had  at  once  burned  the  letter  that  lie  had  received 
from  the  marquis,  in  order  that  none  could  accuse  the 
marquis  of  being  concerned  in  his  action.  All  that 
Basque  had  told  kept  running  in  his  head,  and  he  had  no 
suspicion  that  all  the  spies  of  Maitre  Voyer  d'Argenson 
were  at  his  heels. 


270  SYLVANDIRE. 

AVlieii  witliin  ton  leagues  of  Paris  lie  took  a  carriage; 
he  had  niado  fifty  leagues  in  fifteen  hours,  and  he  was 
brui.sed  to  a  jelly.  In  tlie  carriage  he  began  to  regain  his 
spirits,  for  lie  still  divined  nothing.  The  officer  took  it 
upon  himself  to  give  him  a  clue  to  the  enigma  in  the 
shape  of  his  arrest. 

And  Iloger  was  astounded,  as  we  have  said. 

"  Ah !  I  am  arrested, "  he  kept  repeating  to  himself 
along  the  road.     "Ah!   I  am  arrested." 

And,  at  each  exclamation,  the  olhcer  bowed  with  great 
courtesy,  but  made  no  reply. 

The  carriage  turned  into  the  court-yard  of  the  chateau. 
Roger  descended.  A  man  in  a  coat  of  orange-colored 
velvet,  with  gold  buttons,  came  forward,  and  indicated 
aloud  to  an  officer  the  room  assigned  to  INlonsieur 
d'Anguilhera ;  he  then  read  over  in  a  muttering  way  the 
official  report  of  the  arrest,  which  had  been  scrawled  in 
the  carriage  on  the  road  by  one  of  the  officers,  without 
the  prisoner's  having  even  noticed  it. 

Then  he  spoke,  — 

"  Very  well." 

And  he  made  a  sign  that  tlie  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem 
should  be  conducted  to  the  room  designated. 

Roger  followed  his  guide,  without  speech,  without  sign 
of  protest. 

At  that  moment  they  might  have  shown  Roger  a  scaf- 
fold covered  with  black  cloth,  with  its  block  and  ax;  they 
might  have  made  him  a  sign  to  kneel  at  the  block  and 
bow  his  head  to  receive  the  fatal  blow,  and  he  would 
have  obeyed  withovit  the  slightest  hesitation.  All  the 
adventures  which  were  following  so  closely  upon  each 
other  seemed  to  have  such  intimate  relations  that  he 
submitted  to  their  results  without  knowing  the  reason ; 
but  he  kept  on,  he  went  mechanically,  bending  his  head 


THE    CHEVALIER   RESOLVES    TO    LEAVE    PRISON.    271 

and  accepting  his  ahsurd  destiny,  as  in  a  dream  one  per- 
forms without  hesitation  and  without  astonishment  the 
most  monstrous  follies. 

This  is  why  he  passed  almost  unconsciously,  almost 
without  seeing,  from  a  gloomy  staircase  into  a  very  hand- 
some gallery ;  then,  from  the  gallery  he  took  a  Avinding 
stairway,  went  up  an  infinite  number  of  flights,  passed 
along  another  corridor,  from  the  corridor  into  a  sort  of 
himber-room  and  thence  into  a  small  apartment,  dark  but 
quite  neat.  The  door  closed  behind  him,  the  bolts  grated, 
and  Roger  was  aroused  by  the  sound. 

He  found  himself  sitting  on  a  sort  of  stool ;  he  shook 
liis  head,  looked  around  him,  arose  and  went  the  length 
of  his  room,  which  was  not  far. 

Then,  moved  by  an  instinct  stronger  than  all  others, 
he  came  to  a  standstill  before  a  narrow,  double-grated 
window  through  whose  crossed  bars  a  little  light  and  air 
were  permitted  to  infiltrate. 

Light!  air!  life! 

This  poor  Roger,  this  poor  country  gentleman,  accus- 
tomed to  take  into  his  great  lungs  such  quantities  of  the 
vital  fluid,  while  hunting  the  woods  and  fields  of  Anguil- 
hem,  was  reduced  to  struggle  for  breath  and  a  ray  of 
light  at  a  chink  in  a  wall ! 

"We  say  to  struggle,  because  the  window  was  so  narrow 
that  a  man  could  not  put  out  his  head.  It  was  hewn  with 
four  sharp  edges  out  of  stones  of  enormous  size,  and  two 
sets  of  bars  at  a  distance  of  a  foot  apart  crossed  each  other, 
as  we  have  said,  in  the  depths  of  the  wall;  then,  at  the 
outer  aperture  of  the  window,  the  prisoner  could  get  a 
glimpse  of  a  strip  of  sky  against  which  nothing  was  out- 
lined, not  even  a  tree,  not  even  a  weathervane. 

On  fine  days,  Roger  watched  there  for  a  cloud;  on 
rainy  days  he  watched  for  a  bit  of  azure. 


272  SYLVANDIRE. 

The  situation  was  sad,  and  it  M'as  all  the  sadder  that 
Roger  had  often  pondered  over  the  misfortunes  that 
might  happen  to  him,  to  the  end  that  he  miglit  be  pre- 
pared for  them,  but  never  had  he  dreamed  of  imprison- 
ment; hence  lie  was  not  at  all  prepared  for  it. 

He  sat  down  on  his  stool  to  reflect,  then  he  looked  at 
the  worm-eaten  table  over  which  had  been  thrown  a  piece 
of  tapestry,  then  he  got  up  and  proceeded  to  try  his  bed, 
which  was  very  hard;  and  then,  at  last,  he  went  back 
and  sat  down  on  his  stool  where  he  gave  himself  up  to 
the  strangest  reveries. 

That  he  was  in  prison  was  incontestable ;  but  who  had 
caused  him  to  be  cast  into  prison,  and  for  what  reason 
was  he  imprisoned?     This  was  the  problem  to  be  solved. 

No  one  can  tell  whither  will  wander  the  thouglits  of  a 
man  who  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  think ;  Roger's  over- 
ran the  whole  earth,  and  every  possibility.  His  first  and 
foremost  belief  was  that  he  must  be  the  victim  of  an 
error. 

"  Perhaps, "  he  thought,  "  my  father  has  formed  a  con- 
spiracy in  the  province,  and  I  am  supposed  to  be  his 
agent. " 

Although  Monsieur  le  Baron  d'Anguilhem  had  been 
infinitely  less  displeased  with  the  government  of  Louis 
XIV.  since  he  became  the  heir  of  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois, 
his  son,  who  had  often  heard  him  launch  forth  into  com- 
plaints against  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  Pere  Letellier, 
could  indulge  in  such  a  supposition  without  great  absurd- 
ity. And,  for  the  moment,  this  idea  was  almost  satis- 
factory to  Roger. 

"  I  shall  prove,"  he  thouglit,  "  that  I  have  been  in 
England  for  three  months,  that  I  have  come  directly 
from  there,  that  it  is  eighteen  months  since  I  was  last  at 
Anguilhem,   and  that  I  have  not  seen  my  father  for  a 


THE    CHEVALIER   KESOLVES   TO   LEAVE    PRISON.    273 

year.  In  the  light  of  such  evidence,  my  innocence  will 
be  apparent,  and  I  shall  be  released  in  triuinpli." 

And  Roger  was  quite  tranquil  for  the  space  of  half  an 
hour. 

"  Ah !  yes, "  he  began  at  the  end  of  the  half-hour,  "  but 
what  if  they  think  I  have  been  in  England  to  act  in  con- 
cert with  the  Prince  of  Orange,  who  has  sworn  eternal 
enmity  to  Louis  XIV.  1  What  if  tliey  think  my  journey 
to  England  was  taken  for  tlie  purpose  of  fomenting 
rebellions!     In  that  case,   I  am  lost!" 

And  Roger  sat  plunged  in  despair  for  another  half 
hour. 

"  But  still,"  he  said  to  himself  at  the  end  of  this  half 
hour,  "  may  not  my  affair  liave  some  connection  with 
Crette's  1 " 

In  fact,  he  could  not  think  it  was  because  of  his 
affair  with  l^rlonsieur  de  Royancourt  that  Crette  had 
been  arrested,  or  rather,  that  it  was  solely  because  of 
that  affair. 

"  Crette, "  he  told  himself,  "  has  the  reputation  of  be- 
ing an  enemy  of  the  Old  Woman,  as  he  is,  in  fact,  and 
he  has  incurred  her  dislike.  This  Royancourt  must 
execrate  him.  The  king  is  severe  with  respect  to  duel- 
ling ;  perhaps  he  shut  his  eyes  on  our  first  affair  with  the 
Kollinskis,  and  spared  our  heads  that  time  only  for  want 
of  proof.  To-day,  on  Crette's  simple  challenge  they  base 
a  second  offence.  Yes,  but  for  my  part,  I  am  quite 
innocent  of  that,  as  I  was  in  London  when  the  marquis 
challenged  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  in  Paris." 

He  then  fell  to  thinking  of  his  wife. 

"  She  has  disappeared, "  he  said ;  "  can  it  be  possible 
that  they  think  I  have  murdered  her?" 

And,  at  this  thought,  his  mind  dwelt  no  longer  on 
anything  but  his  wife's  strange  conduct  toward  him;  and 

18 


274  SYLVANDIBB. 

then  lie  fell  into  an  access  of  rage,  for  Roger,  as  the 
reader  must  liave  perceived,  was  as  jealous  as  a  tiger,  and 
it  must  be  admitted  that  Sylvandire  had  given  him  some 
occasion  for  jealousy. 

The  hour  for  exercise  had  arrived ;  they  came  to  fetch 
Koger. 

For  tw^o  hours  daily  the  prisoners  were  allowed  a 
promenade. 

The  promenade  took  place  on  tlie  platform. 

Roger  found  eight  prisoners  on  the  platform,  eight 
companions  of  misfortune,  all  of  greatly  dilfering  equip- 
ment and  countenance. 

One  could  almost  read  from  their  faces  and  habiliments 
the  dates  of  their  incarceration. 

"  What  is  the  news  in  Paris,  monsieur  1  "  cried  all  the 
eight  voices  together, 

"Faith,  gentlemen,"  answered  the  Chevalier  d'An- 
guilhem,  "the  news  of  my  arrest;  however,  as  the  event 
happened  five  or  six  hours  ago,  perhaps  they  no  longer 
speak  of  it  now,  and  are  beginning  to  occupy  themselves 
with  something  else." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  arrested  ?  " 

"  Parbleu  /  you  certainly  see  that;  you  are  not  here 
of  your  own  accord,   are  you  1  " 

"No,  certes." 

"  Well,  neither  am  I." 

"  But  why  were  you  arrested  1  " 

"  That  is  what  I  have  been  trying  to  discover  ever 
since  morning,  and  if  you  can  tell  me,  you  will  really 
extricate  me  from  a  great  difficulty." 

"  What !  you  do  not  know  why  you  were  arrested  1  " 

"  No,  —  and  you  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  you." 

"  And  you  1 " 


THE   CHEVALIER   RESOLVES   TO   LEAVE   PRISON.   275 

"  No  more  than  you. " 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  you." 

He  found  that  the  same  question,  addressed  eight 
times  to  the  prisoners,  eight  times  produced  the  same 
response. 

Among  these  eight  captives,  not  one  knew  the  cause 
of  his  captivity,  and  one  of  them  moreover  had  been  in 
For-l'^veque  for  ten  years. 

He  was  the  most  calm,  the  most  resigned. 

Roger  shuddered.  He  had  not  j'^et  spent  in  prison  as 
many  hours  as  his  companion  had  spent  years. 

And  yet  he  had  found  the  time  very  wearisome 
already. 

"  Ah !  "  thought  Roger,  gloomily,  "  I  am  as  good  as 
dead." 

However,  one  always  hopes  that  the  fate  of  others, 
when  bad,  may  not  be  one's  own,  so  Roger  asked  his 
companions  in  captivity  if  he  could  speak  to  some  of 
the  authorities  of  the  chateau. 

"  You  can  summon  the  governor  when  you  please, " 
was  the  reply. 

"  What !  I  can  summon  the  governor  ?  " 

"Certainly." 

"  Simply  by  asking  for  him  ?  " 

"  Simply  that." 

"  Then  I  shall  ask  for  him  this  evening.  Messieurs,  I 
bid  you  adieu." 

"Adieu!  anTi  why?  " 

"  Because  I  shall  probably  not  have  the  honor  of  see- 
ing you  to-morrow." 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  If  I  see  the  governor  this  evening,  I  shall  to-morrow, 
without  doubt,  be  set  at  liberty." 


276  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Poor  fellow !  "  murmured  the  prisoners  as  they  shook 
tlieir  heads. 

Neither  exclamation  nor  gesture  prevented  Roger's 
returning  to  his  room  in  a  state  of  elation. 

His  dinner  was  served,  and  he  very  resolutely  ate  the 
king's  bread  and  beans. 

Then,  toward  the  end  of  the  repast,  he  begged  the 
turnkey  to  say  to  the  governor  of  For-l'J^veque  that 
his  new  prisoner  desired  very  much  to  speak  with  him. 

"It  is  too  late  to-night,"  replied  the  turnkey,  "but 
monsieur  le  gouverneur  will  come  to  3'ou  to-morrow 
without  fail." 

"  You  are  sure  of  it,  my  friend  1  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  To-morrow,  then, "  said  Roger,  gathering  patience  as 
he  reflected  that  a  night  is  soon  past. 

And  he  went  and  sat  down  on  his  stool  to  watch 
through  the  bars  of  his  w^indow  the  last  gleam  of  day. 

He  sat  there,  gazing  at  the  sky  and  lost  in  meditation, 
when  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard  a  slight  noise  close 
at  hand. 

He  lowered  his  eyes  to  the  floor  and  discovered  a 
mouse  nibbling  the  crumbs  that  had  fallen. 

Roger  hated  mice.  He  seized  his  hat  and  flung  it  at 
the  poor  little  creature,  which  scampered  away  in  terror 
and  crept  under  the  door  into  the  large  room  adjoining, 
where  she  had,  in  all  probability,  taken  up  her  abode. 

For  a  moment,  Roger  was  greatly  disturbed  at  thought 
of  the  intruders  that  might  come  to  pay  him  a  visit 
during  the  night.  In  consequence,  as  long  as  there 
was  a  ray  of  light  in  the  room,  he  sat  with  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  that  little  aperture.  Then,  when  night 
was  closing  in,  he  took  the  cork  from  his  bottle  which 
still  remained  on  the  table,   and,    thanks  to  this  mate- 


THE    CHEVALIER   RESOLVES   TO   LEAVE   PRISON.    277 

rial  obstacle  to  a  second  visit,  he  remained  quite  at 
ease. 

However,  three  or  four  times  he  awoke  Avith  a  start, 
thinking  always  that  he  felt  the  little  paws  running  over 
his  face  and  hands;  but,  each  time  he  managed  to  con- 
vince himself  that  there  was  no  living  creature  in  the 
room  besides  himself. 

But  such  was  not  the  case  with  the  neighboring  room, 
which  seemed  to  be  the  rendezvous  of  all  the  cats,  rats, 
and  mice  in  the  chateau. 

In  spite  of  all  this  Roger  passed  a  good  night :  he  hoped. 

At  noon  of  the  next  day,  an  hour  that  seemed  a  long 
time  in  coming,  an  unusual  noise  sounded  in  the  corridor. 
Soldiers  were  presenting  arms,  steps  were  approaching 
Roger's  door,  a  key  turned  in  the  lock,  the  door  opened, 
and  the  governor  entered. 

He  was  a  tall,  spare  man,  whose  lips  scarcely  moved 
when  he  spoke,  and  whose  eyes  said  absolutely  nothing. 
He  held  his  hat  in  his  hand,  probably  that  he  need  not 
remove  it  upon  entering. 

"  Monsieur  le  gouverneur, "  said  Roger,  springing  to 
meet  him,  "  I  am  the  Chevalier  Roger  d'Anguilhem." 

"  I  know  it,  monsieur, "  replied  the  governor,  with  an 
almost  imperceptible  movement  of  the  lips. 

"  You  know  it  1  "  demanded  the  chevalier  in  astonish- 
ment. 

The  governor  bowed. 

"  Well,  as  you  know  who  I  am,  monsieur  le  gouver- 
neur, I  should  like  —  " 

"  Have  you  any  fault  to  find  with  the  regimen  of  the 
house,  monsieur  le  chevalier  ?  " 

"  No,  not  yet,  monsieur.  Besides,  I  have  not  had 
time  to  learn  very  precisely  what  it  is ;  but  I  should  like 
to  know  —  " 


278  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Is  there  anything  that  you  lack,  monsieur  le  cheva- 
lier?" 

"  Nothing,  just  at  present;  but  can  I  know  —  " 

"  Have  any  of  the  servants  of  the  chateau  been  wanting 
in  civility,  monsieur  le  chevalier  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur.  I  have  even  remarked  the  politeness 
of  those  who  serve  me." 

"  In  that  case,  monsieur  le  chevalier,  since  you  have 
nothing  to  complain  of,  permit  me  to  retire." 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,  pardon  me.  I  complain  of 
being   in   prison." 

"  Ah !  that  does  not  concern  me, "  returned  the 
governor. 

"  But,  tell  me,  why  am  I  here  1  " 

"  You  must  know  better  than  I,  monsieur  le  chevalier." 

"  Better  than  you  !     Why  so  1  " 

"  Because  it  concerns  you,  while,  as  I  have  had  the 
honor  of  telling  you,  it  does  not  concern  me,  and  I 
meddle  only  with  my  own  affairs." 

"  But  you  must  know  —  " 

"  I  know  nothing,  monsieur." 

"  But  you  can  guess  —  " 

"  I  guess  at  nothing,  monsieur.  The  king  sends  me  a 
prisoner,  I  enter  him  in  the  register,  I  lodge  him,  I  see 
that  he  wants  for  nothing  so  long  as  he  is  my  boarder. 
It  is  my  duty,  and  I  discharge  it  scrupulously." 

"  But  the  king  may  be  deceived. " 

"  The  king  is  never  deceived." 

"  But  the  king  may  be  wrong." 

"  The  king  is  never  wrong." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  swear  that  I  have  done  nothing 
at  all." 

"  Monsieur,  excuse  me  from  listening  to  you  longer." 

"Monsieur,  I  protest  that  I  am  innocent." 


THE   CHEVALIER   RESOLVES   TO   LEAVE   PRISON.    279 

"  jMonsieur,  permit  me  to  retire." 

"  But  tell  me,  at  least,  if  I  shall  remain  here  long,  — 
yes  or  no?     Monsieur,  I  implore  you." 

"  As  long  as  it  shall  please  the  king." 

"  Ah  !  that  will  do, "  cried  Roger,  "  you  drive  me  mad." 

"  I  am  your  humble  servant,  monsieur." 

And  the  governor  saluted  Roger,  and  withdrew,  hat  in 
hand,  and  attended  by  his  guards. 

This  time  the  door  closed,  it  seemed  to  Roger,  with  a 
sinister  sound.  Only  then  did  he  feel  himself  a  prisoner. 
He  sank  upon  his  bench,  and  then  his  eyes,  fixed  and 
mournful,  settled  on  that  door,  and,  after  a  little  time, 
filled  with  tears. 

Roger  thought  of  his  parents,  his  friends,  his  God. 

And  then  all  the  tales  of  captivity,  more  terrible  at 
that  period  than  at  any  other,  came  into  his  head :  Bas- 
sompierre,  for  ten  years  a  prisoner  of  the  Bastile ;  Lauzun, 
held  thirteen  years  at  Pignerol;  Fouquet,  alive  or  dead, 
none  knew  where.  He  saw  passing,  one  after  the  other, 
before  him  all  those  gentlemen  who  had  been  spirited 
away  by  night,  and  had  disappeared.  There  were  Mat- 
tioli,  the  Man  of  the  Iron  Mask,  and  that  man  even  whom 
he  had  seen  the  night  before,  and  who  had  been  there 
ten  years.  True,  all  these  men  had  committed  some 
offence:  Bassompierre  had  essayed  to  strive  against 
Richelieu ;  Lauzun  had  compromised  a  granddaughter  of 
Henry  IV. ;  Fouquet  had  dared  vie  with  Louis  XIV.  in 
luxury;  Mattioli  had  betrayed  a  state  secret;  the  Iron 
Mask  was  a  political  enigma.  But  in  vain  did  he,  Roger, 
rack  his  memory,  qviestion  his  past,  scrutinize  every  day 
of  his  life ;  there  was  no  crime,  no  misdemeanor,  no  im- 
prudence even,  with  which  to  reproach  himself,  while  all 
the  world  knew  of  the  wrongdoing  of  those  whose  remem- 
brance arose  in  his  mind. 


280  SYLVANDIRE. 

Yet  the  world  did  not  know  what  tliat  man  had  done 
who  had  spoken  to  hitii  the  night  hefore,  whose  name, 
even,  he  did  not  know,  and  wlio  had  heen  there  ten  years. 

Ten  years !  But  did  tlie  man,  then,  have  no  relatives 
to  solicit  his  pardon,  or  friends  to  take  the  proper  steps 
with  the  ministers?  Was  the  man  quite  obscure,  then? 
Yet,  if  he  was  obscure,  why  had  he  been  ten  years  in 
ror-l':^veque  ? 

This  question  harassed  Roger  greatly  for  an  hour  or 
two;  then  he  returned  to  the  charge,  and  he  made  out 
such  an  excellent  case  for  himself,  that  by  degrees  the 
feeling  of  security  inspired  by  his  innocence  began  to 
regain  the  upper  hand,  and  all  his  gloomy  thoughts  were 
dissipated. 

At  the  hour  for  exercise,  Roger  was  taken  out  as  on 
the  preceding  day ;  he  was  led  to  the  esplanade,  where, 
as  on  the  preceding  day,  he  found  his  eight  companions. 

He  went  up  to  the  one  who  had  been  there  ten  years 
and  asked  his  name. 

"  I  am  the  Comte  d'Olibarus, "  responded  the  latter. 

Roger  searched  his  memory ;  that  name  was  quite  un- 
known to  him. 

"  And  what  is  the  cause  of  your  being  here  ?  Come, 
comte,  just  between  ourselves,  tell  me  that." 

"  I  can  only  repeat  what  I  have  already  told  you,  mon- 
sieur,—  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"  You  know  nothing  about  it  1  " 

"  Nothing,  monsieur. " 

"But,"  said  Roger,  lowering  his  voice,  "during  the 
ten  years  of  your  imprisonment  have  you  made  no  at- 
tempt to  escape  1  " 

The  Comte  d'Olibarus  gazed  steadily  at  Roger,  and 
turned  his  back  upon  him  without  replying.  He  took 
liim  for  a  spy. 


THE   CHEVALIER   RESOLVES   TO   LEAVE    PRISON.    281 

*'Pardleu!"  muttered  Roger  to  himself.  "If  T  had 
been  here  ten  years,  I  think  I  should  have  tried  ten  times 
to  escape." 

Then  he  added,  still  to  himself, — 

"  Stop,  stop,  stop  !  although  I  have  not  been  here  ten 
years,  why  should  I  not  try  to  get  away,  just  the  same  ?  " 

This  reflection  made,  Roger  drew  near  to  his  compan- 
ions; but  they  all  scattered  from  his  path  as  if  he  had 
been  the  plague. 

The  Comte  d'Olibarus  had  communicated  to  them  his 
suspicions,  and  the  confidence  bore  its  fruit. 

Roger  was  unable,  therefore,  to  exchange  a  word  with 
his  fellow-prisoners,  which  put  him  into  a  very  bad 
humor,  and  confirmed  him  in  his  mental  determination 
to  quit  For-1'Eveque  as  soon  as  possible. 

He  resolved,  then,  to  give  the  king  eight  days,  reck- 
oning from  that  moment,  in  which  to  repair  the  injustice 
which  had  been  committed  against  himself,  and  if,  at  the 
end  of  those  eight  days,  the  injustice  were  not  repaired, 
to  bend  all  the  faculties  of  his  mind  to  one  single  idea :  — 

Escape ! 


282  SYLVANDIRE. 


XXI. 

HOW  THE  KING  NEGLECTED  TO  REPAIR  THE  INJUS- 
TICE DONE  THE  CHEVALIER  d'aNGUILHEM  AND 
WHAT    FOLLOWED. 

Under  similar,  although  less  important  circumstances, 
we  have  already  seen  Roger  at  work.  His  resolution 
once  taken,  the  reader  knows  with  what  persistence  he 
sets 'about  its  accomplishment. 

Eight  days  passed  away,  during  which  time  Roger 
would  have  thought  himself  lacking  in  the  confidence 
due  to  His  Majesty,  had  he  thought  the  least  in  the 
world  of  a  project  to  be  executed  only  in  case  of  neglect. 
A  thousand  ideas  presented  themselves  to  his  mind,  all 
relating  to  flight,  but  he  courageously  repressed  them. 
During  the  eight  days  time  did  not  pass  very  heavily, 
although  his  companions  of  the  terrace  continued  to 
shun  him.  Hope  was  always  at  his  side,  and  every 
time  his  door  opened  he  thought  that  the  king,  attacked 
by  remorse,  was  about  to  repair  his  error. 

The  king  probably  had  something  else  than  remorse 
on  hand.  He  therefore  did  not  relent,  and  the  eight 
days  ran  away  without  reparation  of  the  wrong  com- 
mitted against  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem. 

The  last  minute  of  the  last  hour  of  the  last  day  ex- 
pired, and  Roger  returned  seriously  to  his  project. 

He  began  by  examining  his  prison.     There  were,  — 

An  oak  door  three  inches  thick. 

A  window  with  double  grating. 

Walls  four  feet  through. 


Louis  Xiy. 


TIIR   KING  DOES   NOT   REPAIR   THE   INJUSTICE.    283 

That  was  the  sura  of  his  discoveries. 

It  left  him  no  great  degree  of  hope. 

Eoger  shook  the  door.  Two  locks  and  two  bolts  were 
answerable  for  its  security. 

Roger  tried  the  bars  at  the  window.  They  were 
deeply  imbedded  in  the  masonry. 

Eoger  sounded  the  walls.  They  everywhere  gave 
back  a  dull  sound  indicating  that  they  were  perfectly 
solid. 

It  would  have  taken  a  crowbar  to  pry  the  door  open. 

It  would  have  taken  a  file  to  cut  the  bars  of  the 
window. 

It  would  have  taken  a  pickaxe  to  dig  a  hole  in  the 
walls  of  that  room. 

Eoger  had  none  of  them. 

But  he  had  the  intelligence  of  a  man  bred  in  the 
country,  and  vised  to  extricating  himself  from  the  thou- 
sand and  one  little  embarrassments  of  life.  He  had  the 
patience  of  the  prisoner  pursuing  for  hours,  days,  years, 
the  prisoner's  one  and  only  thought,  —  deliverance. 

He  examined  the  interior.  He  would  examine  the 
exterior. 

According  to  the  custom,  they  came  to  take  him  out 
for  the  promenade.  On  leaving  his  little  room,  he 
crossed  the  large  chamber  which  preceded  it,  and  in 
which  all  the  cats  and  rats  of  the  vicinity  continued 
every  night  to  congregate  for  sport. 

It  was  a  sort  of  store-room  with  one  ungrated  window, 
opening  Eoger  knew  not  where,  for  he  was  not  alloAved 
to  go  near  the  window,  and  for  his  part,  he  took  good 
care  not  to  ask  permission  to  do  so.  This  store-room 
was  filled  with  old  mattresses,  bed-covers,  curtains  of 
serge,  and  chests.  One  would  have  said  it  was  tho 
shop  of  a  retail  upholsterer. 


284  SYLVANDIRE. 

One  can  understand  why  cats,  rats,  and  mice  enjoyed 
a  room  like  that. 

Roger  had  to  follow  a  long  corridor.  This  corridor 
was  closed  by  two  doors,  one  opening  into  the  room  in 
front  of  his  own,  and  the  other  upon  a  winding  staircase 
leading  to  the  platform. 

These  two  doors  were  carefully  bolted.  A  sentinel 
paced  up  and  down  the  space  between  them. 

This  time  Koger  made  no  attempt  to  engage  in  con- 
versation witli  his  companions  in  captivity.  His  plan 
appealed  to  him,  and  to  it  he  applied  his  thought. 

Koger  spent  the  two  hours  in  waiting  for  the  time  to 
come  for  bim  to  re-enter  bis  prison.  It  was  useless  to 
think  of  escaping  by  way  of  tlie  platform,  as  there  would 
be  two  doors  to  beat  down  and  a  sentinel  to  overcome. 

All  his  hopes,  therefore,  were  centred  on  the  store- 
room. Hence,  on  re-entering,  Roger  observed  it  with 
greater  attention  than  he  had  yet  bestowed  upon  it.  The 
sounds  that  reached  him  from  the  window  indicated  that 
it  overlooked  the  street.  There  was  plenty  of  cloth  in 
the  bed-ticking  and  blankets  for  making  a  rope. 

Everything  was  to  be  hoped  for,  then,  from  the  store- 
room. 

Roger  went  into  his  room,  and  the  door  was  shut  upon 
him  with  its  double  lock  and  double  bolts. 

The  prisoner's  mind  was  centred  iipon  one  idea,  — 
that  his  escape,  if  it  were  possible,  could  be  accomplished 
only  through  the  store-room. 

Roger  was  separated  from  liberty  only  by  a  door. 
But  what  a  door !  A  wall  of  oak  three  inches  thick 
fitted  into  a  wall  of  stone ! 

Not  a  screw,  not  a  nail,  was  on  the  side  toward 
Roger's  cell.  All  the  work  of  construction  was  on  the 
outside.     Consequently,  there  was  no  chance  to  unscrew 


THE    KING   DOES   NOT   REPAIK   THE    INJUSTICE.    285 

bolts  or  locks  even  with  the  proper  tool  with  which  to 
do  it. 

But  the  tool,  —  he  had  not  even  that. 

Supper  was  brouglit  to  the  prisoner.  He  cast  a  long 
look  through  the  open  doorway  and  heard  the  cries  of 
passing  street- venders. 

Koger  ate  his  supper.  Then,  supper  over,  he  threw 
himself  upon  his  bed. 

After  a  while  he  heard  a  slight  sound.  He  craned 
his  neck  and  saw  the  little  mouse,  which,  reassured  by 
the  stillness,  ventured  to  come  and  eat  again  of  the 
crumbs  from  his  table. 

This  time  Roger  was  quite  astonished  that  he  felt 
none  of  his  former  dread  of  the  rodent  species.  This 
little  animal  coming  to  visit  the  prisoner  and  petitioning 
to  be  allowed  to  live  from  his  superfluity  already  inspired 
him  with  more  of  interest  than  of  repugnance.  Besides, 
Roger  began  to  suffer  ennui,  and  the  visitor  promised 
diversion. 

And  so,  in  his  pride,  he  wished  to  address  to  it  some 
words  of  encouragement,  convinced  that  the  mouse  Avas 
waiting  only  for  those  few  words  to  come,  full  of  grati- 
tude for  the  honor  paid  him;  but  the  mouse,  having, 
on  the  contrary,  ventured  into  the  room  only  on  the 
conviction  that  its  enemy  was  not  there,  had  scarcely 
heard  the  chevalier's  voice  before  it  disappeared  like  a 
flasli. 

Having  railed  against  the  injustice  of  man,  Roger 
now  railed  against  the  ingratitude  of  mice. 

Then  night  came.  Roger  undressed  and  went  to  bed. 
As  it  was  against  the  regulations  to  give  prisoners  a 
light,   the  prisoners  Avent  to  bed  at  sunset. 

Unfortunately  for  Roger,  he  had,  since  leaving 
d'Anguilhem,  lost  the  habit  of  going  to  bed  early.     On 


286  SYLVANDIRE. 

the  contrary,  during  his  visit  to  Paris,  he  had  contracted 
tliat  of  sitting  up  very  late.  That  was  the  epoch  of 
little  suppca-s,  and  lloger  went  to  bed  only  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Besides,  when  he  used  to 
retire  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  at  Anguilhem,  it 
was  after  a  hard  day  spent  in  hunting,  riding,  or  fen- 
cing. In  that  life,  physical  weariness  very  quickly 
invited  sleep;  but  in  prison  it  was  a  very  different 
thing.  The  turgid  stream  that  boiled  in  his  veins  had 
now  no  outlet  of  escape.  The  blood  rushed  to  the 
prisoner's  head.  His  arteries  throbbed  as  if  he  had  a 
fever.  He  closed  his  eyes,  and  fell  into  the  sort  of 
somnolence  which  is  neither  waking  nor  sleeping.  And 
then  the  most  extraordinary  visions  would  pass  before 
his  eyes.  This  night  wore  on  as  he  turned  and  tossed. 
Then,  at  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  fell 
into  a  leaden  sleep,  into  which,  after  a  time,  crept 
troubled  dreams.  He  grew  wings  like  a  bird  and  flew 
away  through  the  window.  He  turned  into  a  mouse 
and  slipped  out  under  the  door.  Then  just  as  he  was 
running  along  the  gutters,  or  traversing  the  skyey  plains, 
feet  or  wings  would  suddenly  fail,  and  he  v/ould  find 
himself  whirling  down  through  infinite  depths,  to 
awake  before  reaching  the  bottom ,  his  heart  bounding, 
his  lungs  panting,  and  his  forehead  dripping  with 
perspiration. 

From  then  until  daylight  there  was  no  going  to  sleep 
again. 

With  the  sun's  first  ray,  Eoger  sprang  out  of  bed. 
Forthwith  he  began  to  prowl  around  his  cell  like  a 
bear  in  a  cage,  examining  window  and  walls,  but  always 
ending  by  halting  in  front  of  the  door. 

That  accursed  door,  which  wanted  only  the  inscription 
of  despair  to  resemble  that  of  the  infernal  regions! 


THE   KING   DOES    NOT   REPAIR   THE   INJUSTICE.   287 

It  was  certainly  through  that  door  that  he  would  have 
to  pass. 

Roger's  morning  meal  was  brought.  He  ate  rapidly, 
scattering  as  much  bread  as  possible  on  the  floor,  throw- 
ing crumbs  as  far  as  the  door,  and  stationed  himself  on 
his  stool  in  the  corner  farthest  from  the  door. 

Thanks  to  all  these  preparations,  he  very  soon  saw 
his  neighbor's  sharp  nose. 

In  spite  of  the  impunity  with  which  she  had  invaded 
the  room  on  the  night  before,  and  of  Roger's  encourage- 
ment, the  little  creature  hesitated  long  before  venturing 
further.  She  withdrew  her  nose,  put  it  back,  again 
withdrew  it;  but  at  last  attracted  by  the  crumbs  strewn 
over  the  boards,  and  especially  by  Roger's  immovability, 
she  darted  into  the  room,  stopping  suddenly  as  if  fright- 
ened at  her  own  hardihood;  but  soon,  reassured  by  her 
apparent  safety,  she  began  to  nibble  at  the  crumbs  with 
a  multitude  of  little  grimaces,  skips,  and  antics  which 
greatly  amused  Roger.  Roger  Avould  never  have  be- 
lieved that  a  mouse  could  be  so  diverting. 

Unfortunately,  Roger,  who  had  sat  as  motionless  as 
a  statue,  felt  himself  seized  by  a  cramp  in  the  leg,  and 
made  a  movement  so  abrupt  that  the  mouse  took  to 
flight. 

On  the  instant  Roger  reflected  that  under  either  of 
two  conditions  he  could  do  as  the  mouse  had  just  done. 
First,  if  he  were  the  size  of  the  hole;  second,  if  the  hole 
were  the  size  of  him. 

It  was  evident  that  only  one  of  the  two  conditions 
was  among  the  possibilities. 

This  proposition  being  thoroughly  demonstrated  to 
Roger,  since  its  meaning  was,  as  we  have  said,  perfectly 
evident,  he  put  to  himself  the  following  question, — 

"  How  can  a  hole  be  made  in  wood  1  " 


288  SYLVANDIRE. 

And  Im  answorod,  — 

"  In  two  ways:  with  iron  and  with  fire." 

To  procure  an  iron  implement  was  impossible. 

To  obtain  fire  was  difficult  merely. 

Roger  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  — 

"  I  must  have  fire. " 

Unhappily  there  was  no  excuse  for  complaining  of 
cold.  It  was  midsummer,  and  Roger  well  knew  that 
he  would  never  have  patience  to  wait  for  winter.  And 
besides,  between  this  time  and  that  the  governor  might 
take  it  into  his  head  to  change  his  room. 

Roger  then  began  to  study  the  ways  and  means  of 
procuring  fire. 

That  very  evening  his  plan  was  decided  upon. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  sentinel  on  duty  in  the  corridor 
heard  groaning.  He  listened  at  each  end  of  the  pas- 
sage alternately,  and  was  satisfied  that  the  groaning 
issued  from  Roger's  room. 

At  ten  o'clock,  when  the  first  round  was  passing,  the 
sentinel  communicated  his  observations  to  the  officer  in 
command.  The  officer  approached  the  door  and  satis- 
fied himself  as  to  the  truth  of  the  sentinel's  report. 
Moans  and  groans  were  issuing  from  Roger's  room,  and, 
as  Roger  was  alone  on  that  side,  there  could  be  no 
mistake  about  it.  It  was  he  that  was  doing  the  groaning 
and  moaning. 

A  turnkey  was  called. 

The  turnkey  came,  opened  Roger's  door,  and  found 
the  prisoner  extended  upon  his  bed  and  complaining  of 
horrible  pains  in  his  stomach.  The  resident  physician 
was  summoned.  He  came,  and  ordered  an  infusion  of 
linden-leaves  for  the  sick  man,  tea  not  having  been  dis- 
covered at  that  date. 

The  next  morning  Roger  kept  his  bed,  still  complain- 


THE    KING   DOES    NOT   KEPAIR   THE    INJUSTICE.    289 

ing  of  pains  which,  he  said,  resembled  burning.  About 
two  o'clock,  nevertheless,  he  ate  some  soup  brought  to 
him  from  the  governor's  own  table.  But  the  soup 
swallowed,  the  groaning  recommenced.  The  doctor 
ascended  again,  and  Koger  informed  the  doctor  that  he 
knew  they  meant  to  poison  him. 

The  doctor  immediately  administered  antidotes;  but, 
as  he  had  suspected,  he  found  not  an  atom  of  any  poison- 
ous substance  in  what  the  prisoner  had  eaten. 

Roger  nevertheless  persisted  in  representing  himself 
as  a  victim  of  poison,  and  he  declared  that  he  would  die 
of  hunger  rather  than  eat  any  food  from  that  moment 
that  had  not  been  prepared  by  himself. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  Roger  kept  his  word.  He 
did  not  touch  his  supper,  which  the  warden  found 
intact  on  taking  him  his  breakfast  the  next  morning. 

At  the  hour  of  exercise  Roger  asked  to  be  let  out; 
but  he  was  told  that  the  hour  had  been  changed.  It 
was  feared  that  if  Roger  found  himself  on  the  platform 
with  the  other  prisoners,  he  might  complain  to  them 
of  having  been  poisoned,  and  that  the  calumny  might 
be  received  by  his  comrades  as  truth. 

They  did  not  come  for  him,  therefore,  until  about 
five  o'clock.  Roger  had  not  eaten  since  noon  of  the 
day  before.  He  was  very  pale  and  apparently  suffered 
much.  He  was  unable  to  continue  standing  on  the 
platform,  and  they  were  obliged  to  bring  him  a  chair. 
He  remained  seated  all  the  time. 

On  returning  through  the  store-room  which  led  to  his 
own  room,  he  felt  ill,  but  did  not  faint  quite  away. 
Then,  in  weakened  tones,  he  asked  for  air,  and  was 
led  to  the  window. 

Roger  put  his  head  outside  of  the  dormer,  and  he  saw 
that  the  opening  overlooked  the  Quai  de  la  Vallee-de- 

19 


290  SYLVANDIRE. 

Misero.  A  distance  of  sixty  feet,  at  the  least,  separated 
him  from  the  ground,  and,  as  all  the  other  windows  in 
the  stories  below  wore  furnished  with  iron  bar^,  he  saw 
beneath  him  a  forest  of  gratings,  wliose  points  were 
iijiturned  toward  him.  Roger  shuddered  at  the  sight, 
which  circumstance  his  warden  naturally  set  down  to 
his  illness;  but  Koger  decided  nevertheless  that  he 
would  escape  by  tliat  route. 

Again  in  his  room,  Roger  persisted  in  refusing  every 
form  of  nourishment,  continuing  to  declare  that  he 
would  much  rather  die  of  hunger  than  of  poison. 

Such  an  accusation  was  too  grave  not  to  disturb  the 
governor.  So  the  next  morning  at  breakfast-time,  he 
presented  himself  at  his  boarder's  room.  He  found  the 
supper  just  as  it  had  been  left  the  night  before.  It 
was  almost  fifty  hours  since  Roger  had  eaten. 

Hence  Roger  was  very  weak  and  greatly  changed. 
The  governor  entered  the  most  reassuring  protests,  offer- 
ing to  taste  in  his  presence  everything  that  was  brought 
to  him;  but  Roger  steadily  refused  to  eat,  saying  that 
such  a  demonstration  would  prove  notliing,  since  the 
governor,  either  before  or  after  eating,  could  take  some 
antidote  and  thus  neutralize  the  effect  of  the  poison. 

The  governor  Avas  very  much  perplexed.  He  had  not 
been  told  the  cause  of  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem's  im- 
prisonment. It  might  be  for  a  trivial  offence,  or  it 
might  be  for  a  serious  one,  and,  in  either  case,  the  king 
might  at  any  time  wish  to  have  his  prisoner  produced 
alive,  Avhether  to  set  him  free  or  to  punish  him.  He 
therefore  asked  Roger  what  he  desired,  promising  him 
to  do  all  that  he  was  able  to  satisfy  him,  if,  however, 
the  desire  came  within  his  power. 

Roger  renewed  the  request  that  he  had  already  made, 
that  is,  that  he  might  himself   prepare  his  own  food. 


THE    KING   DOES    NOT   REPAIE   THE   INJUSTICE.   291 

Otherwise,  he  declared  that  he  had  suffered  so  much 
from  the  two  poisonings  to  which  he  liad  been  subjected 
that  he  was  ready  to  let  himself  perish  of  hunger. 

As,  upon  the  whole,  the  governor  saw  no  great  harm 
in  doing  what  Eoger  asked,  he  granted  his  request. 
In  the  meantime,  as  Roger  was  very  weak,  they  sent  him 
up  two  eggs  so  newly-laid  that  they  were  yet  Avarm,  and 
a  bottle  of  Bordeaux  wine. 

As  the  eggs  had  no  visible  crack,  as  the  bottle  of  Bor- 
deaux seemed  to  have  been  corked  a  long  time,  and  as 
the  seal  upon  it  was  perfectly  intact,  Roger  made  no 
difficulty  about  swallowing  the  two  eggs  and  drinking  a 
glass  of  wine. 

Needless  to  say,  the  prisoner  experienced  no  indispo- 
sition after  taking  this  light  repast. 

But,  light  as  it  was,  it  somewhat  restored  Roger's 
strength,  Roger,  who  was  little  used  to  observing  fasts, 
had  suffered  terribly  from  this  one  which  had  been  self- 
imposed,  and,  had  the  governor  not  so  obligingly  extri- 
cated him  from  his  predicament,  he  might  perhaps  have 
lacked  courage  to  play  much  longer  the  comedy  that  he 
had  planned. 

At  last  he  had  gained  his  end.  They  brought  him  a 
chafing-dish,  a  pair  of  bellows,  some  embers,  a  few 
plates,  a  few  earthen  saucepans,  and  then  eggs,  vege- 
tables, and  butter. 

Besides  there  was  a  great  urn  full  of  water. 

Roger  was  a  hunter,  which  means  that  more  than  once 
when  coursing  the  Anguilhem  estate,  or  neighboring 
territory,  he  had  had  occasion  to  prepare  his  own  dinner. 
He  Avas  therefore  not  at  all  embarrassed  when  it  became 
a  question  of  putting  to  use  the  utensils  that  had  been 
"brought  him;  and,  whether  fasting  had  prepared  him  to 
enjoy  the  meal,  or  whether  indeed  his  ideas  of  the  culi- 


292  SYLVANDIRE. 

nary  art  were  instinctive  or  acquiref],  —  or,  as  says 
lirillat-Savarin  of  gastronomic  fame,  whether  he  had 
become  a  cook  or  was  born  a  chef,  —  he  did  ample  justice 
to  the  dinner  prepared  by  himself. 

Dnring  the  night  following  this  meal  no  groans  dis- 
turbed the  sentinel,  who,  moreover,  was  reputed  to  have 
a  very  acute  ear.  Also,  on  that  night,  Roger,  suspect- 
ing that  the  strictest  watchfulness  had  been  enjoined, 
was  content  to  go  to  sleep,  and  he  slept  even  more 
soundly,  it  is  probable,  than  he  had  done  at  any  time 
since  entering  the  prison. 

The  next  morning  the  governor  came  in  person  to 
inform  himself  concerning  his  prisoner's  health.  He 
found  him  risen,  and  engaged  in  preparing  his  break- 
fast. These  promising  conditions  exempted  the  gov- 
ernor from  a  prolonged  interview.  He  contented  him- 
self, therefore,  with  asking  Roger  about  his  health,  and 
receiving  thanks  for  his  favors.  He  then  took  his  leave 
with  the  same  vacant  look,  the  same  immobility  of 
the  lips  that  the  prisoner  had  remarked  in  his  host 
at  the  time  of  the  first  visit  that  he  had  received  from 
him. 

At  five  o'clock  they  came  to  take  Roger  for  his  cus- 
tomary exercise.  The  measure  adopted  by  the  governor, 
of  allowing  him  no  communication  with  the  other  pris- 
oners, was  still  enforced.  Roger  walked  alone,  then, 
and  meditated  on  his  plan,  which  he  had  decided  to  put 
into  operation  the  following  night. 

The  remainder  of  the  afternoon  and  all  the  next  day 
passed  without  event.  Nothing  occurred  to  change  the 
plan  as  decided  upon.  The  auguries  were  neither  good 
nor  bad.  There  was  neither  comet  nor  eclipse  of  the 
sun.  Roger  therefore  experienced  not  even  a  moment 
of  indecision. 


THE   KING   DOES   NOT   REPAIR   THE   INJUSTICE.    293 

A  stout  heart,  moreover,  was  Roger's  ordinarily,  as 
we  have  said,  and  one  especially  unyielding  in  carrying 
out  his  resolutions. 

Yet  it  was  with  beating  heart  that  he  saw  night 
arrive.  But,  we  hasten  to  add,  his  emotion  did  not 
arise  from  the  dangers  to  which  he  was  about  to  expose 
himself,  but  from  the  fear  that  some  unforeseen  circum- 
stance might  prevent  his  escape.  Nevertheless,  he  dined 
at  his  usual  hour,  and  with  his  ordinary  appetite,  and 
when  his  room  was  visited,  as  usual,  at  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  he  was  found  already  in  bed  and 
quite  settled  for  the  night. 

There  were  two  hours  to  wait.  The  first  round  was 
made  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  the  second  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Now,  it  occasionally 
happened,  rarely  it  is  true,  but  it  had  already  happened 
twice  since  Roger  had  been  in  For-l'Eveque,  that  the 
officer  caused  the  doors  of  the  cells  to  be  opened,  and  scru- 
tinized the  walls  and  the  bars  to  assure  himself  that  the 
prisoners  were  meditating  no  attempt  at  escape.  Hence 
Roger  could  not  act  upon  his  plans  before  ten  o'clock. 

And  Roger  did  well  to  wait.  For,  at  the  usual  hour, 
the  steps  of  the  patrol  began  to  be  heard,  then  the  steps 
drew  nearer,  then  the  store-room  door  was  opened,  then 
that  of  Roger's  room.  Roger  feared  for  a  moment  that 
all  was  discovered;  but  he  immediately  reflected  that 
the  thing  was  impossible,  since  no  preparations  had  been 
made  in  advance  that  could  betray  him,  nor  had  he  any 
confidant  who  could  denounce  him.  He  thereupon  com- 
posed his  countenance,  and  appeared  to  have  been  aroused 
from  the  deepest  slumber.  As  Roger  had  supposed,  it 
was  merely  a  precautionary  measure,  and,  after  sounding 
the  walls,  shaking  the  bars,  and  scrutinizing  the  door, 
the  officer  went  out  saying,  — 


294  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Very  well  !  " 

The  prisoner  sat  up  in  his  bed,  listening  to  the  sound 
of  the  retreating  footsteps.  Then,  wlien  every  noise, 
every  sound,  every  echo  had  died  away  in  the  prison 
depths,  he  cautiously  got  out  of  bed,  walking  with  bare 
feet.  He  went  to  the  door  and  listened.  All  was 
quiet,  all  was  silent.     He  breathed  again. 

In  an  instant  Roger  was  dressed. 

Having  been  arrested  just  as  he  was,  since  Basque 
was  to  bring  his  trunks,  which,  setting  off  at  a  moment's 
notice,  he  had  been  unable  to  take  with  him,  Roger  had 
succeeded  in  having  some  shirts  made  and  some  hand- 
kerchiefs bought.  From  the  chest,  then,  in  which  his 
linen  was  kept,  he  began  to  take  everything  that  could 
be  twisted  into  rope  or  woven  into  strands,  to  form,  in 
short,  a  substitute  for  a  ladder.  Then  he  laid  it  all  on 
his  bed,  and,  to  lose  no  time,  he  heaped  against  the  door 
a  pile  of  charcoal  which  he  lighted.  After  that  he 
returned  to  his  ladder. 

First,  the  sheets  and  coverlets  of  the  bed  were  used. 
Next,  at  the  end  of  the  sheets  and  coverlets,  torn  into 
strips,  he  knotted  the  twisted  shirts  and  braided  hand- 
kerchiefs. During  all  this  time  the  coal  was  burning, 
and,  in  order  not  to  be  asphyxiated,  Roger  was  obliged 
to  go  to  the  window  every  five  minutes  for  air.  The 
night  was  pitch-dark,  and  such  as  was  needed  for  a  plan 
as  hazardous  as  Roger's. 

Meanwhile,  the  coal,  converted  into  embers,  accom- 
plished its  work.  A  horrible  smoke  ensued;  but,  for- 
tunately, the  wind  blew  in  at  the  window  from  the  quay, 
so  that  all  smoke  was  driven  back  into  the  room  of  the 
prisoner,  whom  it  would  certainly  have  suffocated,  had 
he  not,  as  we  have  said ,  thrust  his  face  between  the  bars 
of  the  window  from  time  to  time. 


THE   KING  DOES   NOT   REPAIR   THE   INJUSTICE.    295 

Eoger  heard  eleven  o'clock  strike,  and  half-past  eleven. 

At  last,  toward  midnight,  the  hole  made  in  the  door, 
and  shaped  like  the  mouth  of  an  oven,  seemed  to  him 
large  enough  to  pass  through.  He  extinguished  the  fire 
with  water,  cleared  away  the  dead  emhers,  enlarged  the 
opening  still  more  by  breaking  out  portions  of  the 
charred  wood,  and  then  he  lay  down  on  his  back,  and, 
with  the  part  of  the  rope  already  prepared  in  his  hand, 
he  crawled  through  like  a  snake,  and  a  moment  later 
found  himself  in  the  store-room. 

Here  he  was  able  to  breathe  more  freely.  Then  he 
went  and  listened  at  the  door  of  the  corridor,  where  he 
heard  the  slow,  measured  tread  of  the  sentinel. 

All  was  going  well. 

He  then  proceeded  to  grope  his  way  toward  the  place 
where,  when  passing  through,  he  had  seen  a  heap  of 
blankets,  and  to  the  rope  already  made  he  began  to  add 
the  strips  which  he  noiselessly  tore  off,  and  by  the  aid  of 
which  he  thought  to  give  his  perilous  ladder  a  length 
sufficient  to  carry  him  to  the  ground. 

The  rope  completed,  he  looked  about  for  a  place  to 
which  it  could  be  fastened;  but  the  window  presented 
no  brace  strong  enough  to  risk  his  life  upon  it.  He 
remembered  then  that  his  bed  had  four  posts,  originally 
designed  to  carry  a  tester  now  wanting.  He  returned  to 
his  room  by  the  same  route  that  he  had  come  out,  un- 
screwed one  of  the  four  posts,  transferred  it  to  the  store- 
room, tied  the  rope  to  the  middle  of  the  post,  placed  the 
post  across  the  window  in  such  a  way  that  it  was  per- 
fectly secure.  Then,  recommending  his  soul  to  God, 
murmuring  the  names  of  his  father  and  mother,  and 
giving  a  last  thought  to  Constance,  he  crept  backward 
through  the  window,  and,  clutching  the  rope  with  both 
hands  and  knees,  he  began  his  slow  and  perilous  descent 


296  SYLVANDIRE. 

into  tho  al)3'ss,  down  which  tlie  morning  hcfore,  he  liad 
been  unable  to  look  without  a  shudder. 

As  we  have  said,  tlie  distance  between  the  window 
and  tho  ground  was  more  tlian  sixty  feet.  In  addition 
to  the  courage  required  for  undertaking  this  task,  mar- 
vellous skill  and  strength  were  needed  for  its  execu- 
tion. But  Roger  was  strong  and  agile.  He  did  not 
hiirry  himself  in  any  way.  Kot  one  of  his  movements 
was  quicker  than  another.  At  every  knot,  he  paused 
a  moment  to  rest,  using  his  feet  to  clear  himself  from 
the  sharp  bars  of  the  windows.  He  counted  thus  three 
stories  that  he  had  passed.  Then,  suddenly,  he  felt 
nothing  more  between  his  knees;  he  searched  in  vain. 
He  had  come  to  the  end  of  the  rope.  He  groped  about 
with  his  feet  for  some  support,  but  he  found  nothing. 
He  tried  to  penetrate  the  gloom  around  him,  but  tho 
night  was  so  black  that  he  could  see  nothing.  It  might 
have  been  a  bottomless  abyss.  For  an  instant  he  thought 
of  climbing  back  and  adding  new  strips  of  linen  to 
those  he  had  knotted  together,  but  he  felt  that  his 
strength  would  desert  him  before  he  had  gone  half-way. 
Then  a  cold  sweat  overspread  his  forehead.  He  was 
as  likely  to  be  twenty  feet  as  two  feet  from  the  ground. 
He  knew  that  it  had  become  a  question  of  good  luck 
or  bad  luck,  that  his  life  was  in  tlie  hands  of  fate.  He 
lowered  himself  to  the  very  end  of  the  rope.  Then, 
murmuring  a  few  words  of  prayer,  he  abandoned  him- 
self to  his  fate  and  let  go  the  rope. 

Almost  instantly  a  half-stifled  cry  of  pain  reached  the 
sentinel,  and  he  gave  the  alarm.  The  people  ran  out 
with  torches,  and  discovered  Roger,  who  had  fainted 
away,  caught  on  the  top  of  an  iron  bar  whose  point  had 
pierced  his  thigh. 


THE  KIlN^G  AT  LAST  KEMEMBEES  THE  CHEVALIER.   297 


XXII. 

HOW  THE   KING   AT    LAST    KEMEMBEKS  THE  CHEVALIER 
d'ANGUILHEM,    and    WHAT    COMES    OF    IT. 

When  Roger  came  to  himself  he  was  in  a  strange  room. 
A  doctor  was  at  his  side,  and  he  was  in  a  better  and 
cleaner  bed  than  prison  beds  are  wont  to  be,  hence  for  an 
instant  he  thought  he  was  free;  but,  unfortunately  for 
the  chevalier,  such  was  not  the  case.  The  governor  had 
caused  him  to  be  transferred  for  the  time  being  to  a  room 
of  his  own  suite. 

The  wound  was  severe  without  being  dangerous, 
although  Roger  was  very  weak,  owing  to  the  loss  of  an 
enormous  quantity  of  blood.  His  first  thought  was  to 
discover  whether  he  could  not  profit  by  the  accident  itself 
to  attempt  a  second  escape.  On  a  pretext  of  needing  air, 
he  begged  the  physician  to  open  the  window;  like  the 
other  windows  of  For-l'Eveque,  the  window  was  pro- 
vided with  a  grating  on  the  outside. 

When  the  surgeon  took  his  leave,  charging  Roger  to 
rest,  Roger  heard  the  door  secured  behind  him  with 
double  fastenings.  Roger  was  in  a  prison,  a  trifle  more 
commodious,  a  trifle  more  elegant,  but  it  was  still  a  prison. 

The  next  morning,  the  governor  in  person  came  to  pay 
him  a  visit,  and  to  learn  directly  from  himself  the  reasons 
that  had  induced  him  to  attempt  so  perilous  an  escape; 
he  desired,  he  said,  to  be  assured  that  it  had  been  neither 
the  fare,  which  was  rather  frugal,  perhaps,  nor  the 
rules  of  the  house,  somewhat  strict,  it  might  be,  that  had 
led  him  to  the  desperate  act.     Roger  replied  that  neither 


298  SYLVANDIRE. 

had  been  tlie  cause.  He  knew  tliat  people  were  as  well 
oil"  in  Fur-rEveque  as  they  could  be  in  any  prison,  and 
only  his  desire  to  regain  the  liberty  that  he  had  not 
deserved  to  lose  had  brought  him  to  that  extremity. 
The  governor  entreated  him  to  sign  a  declaration  to 
that  effect,  which,  he  said,  would  constitute  his  own 
defence  with  the  authorities.  Roger  instantly  complied 
with  his  request. 

Indeed,  Roger  saw  a  ray  of  hope  in  that  very  declara- 
tion. In  his  simplicity  of  soul,  the  poor  boy  still 
believed  himself  the  victim  of  a  mistake,  which,  one  day 
or  another,  could  not  fail  to  be  recognized.  Now,  one 
means  of  gaining  recognition  was,  in  his  opinion,  to  bring 
his  name  as  speedily  as  possible  before  the  eyes  of  the 
authorities,   and  in  any  manner  whatever. 

This  simple  circumstance  gave  Roger  fresh  courage. 
So  little  it  takes  to  buoy  up  the  hopes  of  even  those  who 
should  despair! 

He  waited,  then,  with  more  patience  than  he  Avould 
have  done  but  for  this  incident,  and  his  wound  progressed 
favorably.  At  the  end  of  eight  days  Roger  sat  up,  and 
at  the  end  of  fifteen  he  began  to  be  able  to  walk  unaided 
about  his  room.  In  the  meantime,  the  governor  had 
visited  him  three  times,  and,  on  each  occasion,  Roger  had 
asked  the  governor  if  he  were  quite  sure  that  his  declara- 
tion had  come  to  the  eyes  of  the  minister  of  police.  At 
his  first  inquiry,  and  at  the  second,  tlie  governor  had 
replied  that  he  hoped  so;  but  the  third  time,  he  was 
able  to  assure  the  prisoner  that  it  was  so,  since,  as  a 
reward  for  the  active  surveillance  which  he  had  displayed 
on  that  occasion,  he  had  just  been  made  a  chevalier  of 
Saint  Louis. 

The  prisoner  congratulated  the  governor  very  sincerely 
on  the  favor  just  shown  him  by  the  king,  nor  did  he 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  REMEMBEKS  THE  CHEVALIER.  299 

doubt  that,  following  upon  the  inquiry  that  must  be  made 
regarding  his  own  accident,  he  himself  would  soon  be  set 
at  liberty.  There  were  even  moments  when  he  thought 
that  his  release  could  not  fail  to  be  marked  likewise  by  a 
favor  from  His  Majesty;  the  king,  in  his  opinion,  was 
too  just  to  allow  such  injustice  to  pass  without  reparation. 
However,  it  is  due  to  Roger  to  say  that  he  did  not  dwell 
upon  this  idea  of  extreme  justice  except  in  moments  of 
optimism,  which  he  himself  regarded  as  somewhat  exag- 
gerated after  they  had  vanished. 

However,  more  than  fifteen  days  had  passed  since 
the  elfort  to  escape  which  we  have  just  chronicled,  the 
chevalier  improving  more  and  more,  when  the  governor 
one  night  entered  his  room. 

"  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem, "  he  said,  in  his 
usual  tone  of  voice,  and  without  Roger's  being  able  to 
catch  his  roving  glance,  "  rise  and  dress  yourself." 

"  Rise  and  dress  myself  ?  "  repeated  Roger. 

"  Yes,  monsieur;  we  are  to  part," 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  "  I  knew  indeed  that,  sooner 
or  later,  my  innocence  would  be  established." 

The  governor  made  no  reply. 

"  Monsieur  le  gouverneur, "  said  Roger,  while  hastily 
dressing,  "  trust  me,  if  I  am  questioned  with  regard  to 
you,  I  shall  endeavor,  as  I  have  already  done,  to  render 
justice  to  your  excellent  treatment  of  me." 

The  governor  bowed  without  other  response. 

"  And  if  either  I  or  my  friends  can  render  you  any 
service,  I  shall  seize  the  opportunity,  not  only  Avith 
eagerness  but  also  with  gratitude." 

The  governor  stammered  a  few  unintelligible  words. 

"  But, "  continued  Roger,  "  I  am  still  too  weak  to  go  on 
foot.  Will  you  have  the  kindness,  monsieur  le  gouver- 
neur,  to  have  a  carriage  called  1  " 


300  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  There  is  one  at  the  door. " 

"  Then,  mcany  thanks,  monsieur  le  gouverneur.  I  will 
not  ask  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  at  your  house, 
but  at  mine,  the  old  Hotel  Bouzenois,  Place  Louis-le- 
Grand." 

The  governor  again  bowed  witliout  speaking;  how- 
ever, as  the  chevalier  was  now  ready,  he  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  tlie  fact,  but  extended  his  hand  to  tlie  governor, 
and,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  soldier,  he  took  his 
departure. 

The  chevalier  advanced  to  the  door  through  a  double 
line  of  guards;  at  the  door,  he  saw  in  fact  a  carriage 
awaiting  him,  and  he  turned  to  bow  to  the  governor  a 
last  time,    but  the  governor   had  remained  behind. 

Roger  sprang  into  the  carriage  very  lightly  for  a 
wounded  man,  and  as  they  were  shutting  the  door,  cried 
in  joyful  tones,  — 

"  Place  Louis-le-Grand,  H6tel  Bouzenois. " 

It  seemed  to  him  that  a  burst  of  laughter  greeted  his 
direction,  but  giving  it  no  thouglit,  he  extended  his 
wounded  leg  on  the  seat  in  front  of  him,  and  leaned  back 
in  a  corner  of  his  carriage. 

After  a  while,  he  observed  two  musketeers  galloping 
on  either  side  of  the  carriage.  The  excessive  honor  shown 
him  by  His  Majesty  in  sending  him  home  with  an  escort, 
began  to  disturb  Roger. 

Then,  instead  of  descending  the  quay,  the  carriage 
seemed  to  be  crossing  La  Cite ;  this  was  by  no  manner  of 
means  the  route  to  the  Place  Louis-le-Grand. 

Roger,  therefore,  approached  the  window  and  ques- 
tioned the  guards ;  but  doubtless  the  noise  of  the  carriage- 
wheels  and  the  clatter  of  the  horses'  hoofs  on  the  pave- 
ment prevented  their  hearing  him,  for  in  vain  did  he 
reiterate  his  questions;  they  won  no  responses. 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  KEMEMBEES  THE  CHEVALIEK.     301 

At  last,  after  bowling  along  for  nearly  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  Roger  distinguished  a  great  isolated  building. 
He  put  his  head  outside  the  window,  fixed  his  eyes  on 
that  black  mass  carved  out  of  the  darkness,  and,  to  his 
infinite  terror,  he  recognized  the  Bastile. 

What  Eoger  had  taken  for  a  release  was  merely  a 
transference ;  and  the  favor  that  the  king  had  done  him 
was  to  take  him  from  For-l'Eveque  to  place  him  in  the 
Bastile. 

Under  the  archway,  Roger  was  required  to  descend 
and  be  searched,  as  was  usual  with  prisoners  that  were 
brought  to  the  Bastile.  Then  he  was  taken  over  the 
bridge  and  the  door  of  the  guard-house  was  opened.  He 
was  to  wait  there  until  his  room  Avas  ready. 

Roger  was  so  stunned  that  he  made  no  movement, 
offered  no  word.  They  came  for  him  at  the  end  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  One  of  the  musketeers  that  had 
escorted  his  carriage  offered  him  his  arm  to  lean  upon. 
Roger  let  himself  be  led  like  a  condemned  man  that  is 
taken  to  the  scaffold.  However,  in  passing  through  a 
very  dark  corridor,  he  felt  his  guide  slip  a  little  note 
into  his  hand.     He  trembled. 

"  From  the  Marquis  de  Crette,"  whispered  the 
musketeer. 

Roger  was  about  to  speak,  but  the  musketeer  at  the 
same  moment  gave  place  to  a  comrade  and  disappeared. 

The  prisoner  had  just  been  searched,  and  consequently 
he  had  nothing  to  fear  on  that  score.  He  put  his  hand 
into  his  pocket  and  dropped  the  note  into  it.  Then  he 
rested  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  his  new  guide.  They 
soon  came  to  a  staircase.  Doubtless  they  had  taken  into 
consideration  the  prisoner's  wound,  for  he  was  made  to 
ascend  to  the  second  floor  only.  Arrived  there,  a  door 
was  opened,  then  a  second,  then  a  third,  and  Roger  found 


302  SYLVANDIRE. 

himself  in  a  room  wliere,  by  the  light  of  the  torches  fol- 
lowing him,  he  saw  something  like  a  hed.  Almost 
'immediately,  the  door  of  the  cell  was  closed.  He  heard 
the  locks  and  bolts  of  the  other  doors  grate  in  turn.  He 
was  again  a  prisoner. 

As  he  was  very  tired  and  his  leg  was  giving  him  great 
pain,  he  took  his  bearings  for  the  purpose  of  finding  his 
bed,  and  turned  in  the  direction  in  which  he  supposed  it 
must  be.  He  found  it  in  fact;  but  just  as  he  was  sitting 
down  upon  it,  a  voice  said,  — 

"  Monsieur,  may  I  ask  what  you  desire  ?  " 

"  Pardon,  monsieur, "  cried  Roger,  rising,  "  I  did  not 
know  that  the  bed  was  occupied." 

"  It  is,  monsieur,  as  you  perceive,"  returned  the  voice; 
"  and  as  mine  is  the  right  of  priority,  allow  me  to 
keep  it." 

"  Why,  that  is  very  proper,  monsieur,"  replied  Roger; 
"  but  since,  in  your  capacity  of  pioneer,  you  doubtless 
know  the  premises  better  than  I,  kindly  tell  me  whether 
there  is  a  chair,  a  bench,  a  stool,  a  seat  of  any  kind,  in 
short,  on  which  I  can  sit.  I  am  wounded  in  the  thigh, 
and  I  feel  that  if  I  am  kept  standing  any  longer  I  may 
faint  away." 

"  Search  around,  monsieur, "  answered  the  voice ;  "  there 
ought  to  be  an  arm-chair  somewhere." 

Roger  searched  about,  with  his  hands  outstretched  like 
a  man  playing  blind-man's  buff,  and  he  at  last  came  in 
contact  with  the  arm-chair. 

He  sank  into  it  and  began  to  reflect. 

In  the  first  place,  at  the  sound  of  that  voice,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  had  heard  it  somewhere,  but  he  could  not 
tell  where.  In  vain  he  sought  to  apply  it  to  some  one 
of  his  acquaintances.  His  mind  became  more  and  more 
confused.     Then  he  thought  that  a  better  way  to  con- 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  REMEMBERS  THE  CHEVALIER.  303 

duct  liis   reseai'cli  would  be  frankly   to   ask   his  fellow- 
prisoner  who  he  was. 

"  Monsieur, "  said  Koger,  "  when  people  are  destined, 
as  I  fear  we  are,  to  live  for  some  time  in  the  same 
room,  the  best  thing  to  do  is  promptly  to  form  acquaint- 
ance, that  we  may  know  whom  we  have  the  honor 
to  address." 

"  But  who  are  you  yourself  ?  "  said  the  voice. 

"  I  am  Roger  Tancrede  d'Anguilhera,  —  a  prisoner  by 
mistake,"  said  Roger;  "and  you  are  right,  it  is  quite 
proper  that  I  should  give  my  name  first.  And  now, 
who  are  you  1  " 

"I,  monsieur,  am  number  158." 

"  What  does  that  mean,  —  number  158  1  " 

"  It  is  the  designation  that  has  taken  the  place  of  my 
name  and  title.  To-morrow,  you  will  no  longer  be 
called  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem;  you  will  be  number 
159,  or  160,  or  161." 

Roger  groaned  at  the  thought  that,  having  lost  his 
liberty,  he  was  about  to  lose  his  name,  and,  having  been 
a  man,  he  was  to  become  a  number. 

"  Have  you  been  here  long  enough  to  forget  your 
other  name  1  " 

"  No ;  but  I  might  be  punished,  perhaps,  if  I  remem- 
bered it,"  said  the  voice. 

"  Diahle  I  you  are  cautious !  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

"  When  you  have  been,  like  me,  ten  years,  three  months, 
and  five  days  under  lock  and  key, "  returned  the  voice,  "  it 
is,  I  promise  you,  a  virtue  that  you  yourself  will  practise." 

"  Ten  years  !  "  cried  Roger,  "  ten  years,  three  months, 
and  five  days !  I  would  ten  times  rather  dash  my  brains 
out  against  these  walls." 

"  Monsieur, "  said  the  voice,  "  you  will  not  take  it 
amiss  if  I  no  longer  answer  you." 


304  *  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  And  wliy  not,  pray  1  " 

"  Because  our  great  king,  Louis  XIV.,  whom  God 
preserve,  is  indeed  our  master,  to  call  us  by  what  name 
and  number  he  pleases,  and  to  keep  us  in  his  chateau  as 
long  as  it  suits  him." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,  I  know  you,"  cried  Roger;  "your 
very  caution  has  betrayed  you  —  you  are  the  Comte 
d'Olibarus!  " 

"  I  am  not  the  Comte  d'Olibarus,"  cried  tlie  voice;  "  I 
am  number  158." 

Just  then,  steps  were  heard  in  the  corridor. 

"  Ah !  you  have  undone  me !  "  cried  the  poor  count, 
"  and  this  is  the  second  time.  The  first  time,  you  spoke 
to  me  on  the  terrace  of  For-l'^veque,  and  as  it  was 
found  that  you  meant  to  escape,  I  was  believed  to  be  your 
accomplice  and  was  brought  here.  You  have  just  spoken 
to  me  the  second  time,  and  I  shall  be  placed  in  some 
dungeon,    which  I  shall  never  leave." 

The  outer  door  was  heard  to  open. 

"  But,  monsieur  le  comte  —  "  began  Roger. 

"  Silence  !  monsieur,  in  heaven's  name,  silence!  Keep 
still,  not  a  word;  I  do  not  knoAV  you;  I  have  never 
spoken  to  you;  I  have  never  seen  you." 

And  Comte  d'Olibarus  muffled  himself  up  in  his 
blankets,   and  turned  his  nose  to  the  wall. 

The  poor  prisoner  was  mistaken  in  his  gloomy  fore- 
bodings ;  they  were  coming  merely  to  set  up  a  cot  for  his 
cell-mate. 

This  attention  gave  great  satisfaction  to  Roger,  who 
would  momentarily  have  been  reconciled  to  his  situa- 
tion, had  he  been  able  to  read  Crette's  note,  which  he 
kept  fingering  in  his  pocket;  but  the  wardens  turned 
their  backs  not  a  moment  during  the  time  while  the 
bed  was  being   made,   which,   for  that  matter,   did  not 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  REMEMBEES  THE  CHEVALIER.     305 

take  long,  and  when  they  went  away,  they  carried  the 
candle. 

Koger  thought  himself  rid  of  their  presence,  when  one 
of  them  returned  and,  opening  the  door,  said,  — 

"  By  the  way,  the  last  comer  is  number  169." 

"  Peste!  "  ejaculated  Roger  to  himself,  "it  seems  that 
between  the  Comte  d'Olibarus  and  me,  His  Majesty  has 
received  ten  lodgers." 

And  he  went  to  bed  with  tlie  comforting  reflection 
that  if  the  Bastile  filled  up  in  that  ratio,  they  would 
soon  be  obliged  to  put  the  earliest  out  of  doors,  or  make 
eight  or  ten  prisoners  sleep  in  the  same  room,  which, 
in  the  first  instance,  would  meet  with  his  entire  ap- 
proval, or,  in  the  second,  would  at  least  afford  him  some 
diversion. 

Upon  which,  he  fell  asleep,  holding  fast  in  his  hand 
Crette's  note,  which  he  assured  himself  he  would  read  by 
the  first  ray  of  daylight  that  penetrated  his  prison. 

But  man  is  no  more  sure  of  himself  in  misfortune  than 
in  good  fortune.  Roger  slept  as  well  as  if  he  had  been 
perfectly  happy,  and  he  did  not  awake  until  broad  day. 
At  first  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  he  recalled  where 
he  was.  The  sight  of  Comte  d'Olibarus  sitting  on  his 
bed  and  sewing  the  tassel  on  his  nightcap,  bewildered 
him  quite ;  but,  after  gazing  around  him,  and  delving  in 
tlie  depths  of  his  memory,  Roger  soon  remembered  that 
he  was  in  the  Bastile. 

Then  all  the  details  of  his  removal  recurred  to  his 
mind,  and  he  remembered  that  a  musketeer  had  given 
him  a  note  from  Crette  which  he  had  not  been  able  to 
read  the  night  before,  and  that  he  had  gone  to  sleep  with 
the  note  in  his  hand,  promising  himself  to  read  it  at  the 
first  peep  of  day. 

Roger  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  losing  this  note;  he 

20 


306  SYLVANDIRE. 

immediately  began  a  search,  and  he  found  it,  fortunately, 
under  his  bolster. 

Crette's  note  contained  these  few  lines :  — 

"  I  know  that  you  are  being  transferred  from  For-l'lilveque 
to  the  Bastile,  and  through  the  agency  of  Clos-Ilenaud, 
■who  is  a  lieutenant  of  the  Gray  Musketeers,  I  am  sending 
you  this  note.  Your  wife  has  not  yet  reappeared,  and, 
should  it  drive  you  to  despair,  I  shall  say  that  I  do  not 
think  her  a  stranger  to  your  detention.  Royan court  is  in 
greater  favor  than  ever,  and  by  the  way  in  whicli  I  am  an- 
swered when  I  ask  for  your  release,  I  am  convinced  that  the 
blow  comes  from  that  source.  Moreover,  they  pretend  to 
have  found  at  your  house,  written  in  your  hand,  some  song 
or  other  against  La  Maintenon  ;  one  of  those,  probably,  that 
you  sang  to  us  at  Saint  Germain.  You  see  indeed  that  only 
your  wife  could  have  been  guilty  of  this  petty  treason. 

"  We  can  accomplish  nothing  therefore  toward  your 
release ;  but  try  to  escape,  and  hasten  to  my  house.  Two  or 
three  disguises  will  be  ready;  you  can  travel  night  and  day, 
and,  in  twenty-four  hours  you  will  be  in  a  foreign  country." 

This  letter  came  like  a  thunder-clap  to  Iloger.  He 
really  believed  his  wife  guilty,  he  even  suspected  that 
Sylvandire  had  betrayed  him;  but  that  she  could  have 
been  equal  to  having  him  imprisoned  in  For-1'Eveque, 
was  a  thing  that  could  never  have  entered  his  mind.  He 
was  forced  to  believe  it,  however;  his  arrest  must  have 
created  some  stir ;  it  was  impossible  that  Sylvandire  could 
be  ignorant  of  it,  and  if  she  was  not  ignorant  of  it,  and 
was  not  a  party  to  the  affair,  how  did  it  happen  that  she 
was  not  in  Paris  soliciting  his  freedom  ?  Why  had  she  not 
already  mustered  into  service  all  the  friends  of  Maitre 
Bouteau  and  of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  ?  Why  had  she 
not  sought  and  obtained  what  is  very  rarely  refused  a 
woman,  an  interview  with  her  husband,  even  though  it 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  REMEMBERS  THE  CHEVALIER.     307 

were  in  the  presence  of  witnesses?  He  was  indeed 
forced  to  believe  wliat  Crette  said.  Besides,  Crette  had 
not  been  wrong  when  he  had  predicted  the  future ;  all 
the  more  reason,  therefore,  that  he  should  be  right  in 
what  related  to  the  past. 

Roger  tore  Crette's  note  into  impalpable  bits  and 
threw  them  into  the  fireplace ;  for,  in  the  Bastile,  from 
the  second  floor  up,  the  rooms  had  fireplaces.  Then  he 
rose,  planning,  for  his  part,  the  most  terrible  scliemes  of 
vengeance  against  the  Marquis  de  Royancourt  and 
Sylvandire. 

But  to  achieve  revenge  he  must  be  free,  and  Crette 
said  that  he  must  rely  only  on  himself  for  that,  con- 
vinced that  any  measures  of  his  would  be  futile.  Roger 
then  set  about  inventing  some  new  way  of  escape.  He 
had  come  so  very  near  escaping  from  For-r]6veque  that, 
after  all,  he  did  not  see  why  he  should  not  get  out  of 
the  Bastile. 

Only,  there  was  one  great  obstacle  to  any  attempt  at 
flight.     It  was  the  presence  of  the  Comte  d'Olibarus. 

Roger  meditated  on  his  project  for  several  days;  but 
he  meditated  in  vain;  he  hit  upon  nothing.  During 
all  this  time,  his  companion  showed  himself  more  and 
more  prudent,  avoiding  all  conversation  and  replying  to 
Roger  only  when  the  latter  addressed  him  by  his  number. 

Three  weeks  rolled  away,  Roger  meanwhile  spending 
his  days  in  plotting  escape  and  cursing  the  cowardice  of 
his  room-mate  who,  the  moment  the  subject  was 
broached,  would  threaten  to  call  the  watch.  Many 
times  was  he  seized  with  a  fierce  desire  to  strangle  the 
count  and  declare  that  he  had  died  of  a  fit  of  apoplexy ; 
but,  fortunately,  Roger  always  stayed  his  hand  in 
good  season,  reserving  this  extreme  measure  for  a  last 
expedient. 


308  SYLVANDIRE. 

We  have  avowed  tliat  in  spite  of  liis  preoccupation 
Roger  slept  well,  lloger  was  scarcely  twenty-one  years 
old^  and  a  man  sleeps  well  at  that  age.  Yet,  occasion- 
ally, in  the  midst  of  his  slumbers,  strange  sounds  reached 
his  ears,  which  he  took  for  a  pliase  of  his  dreams. 

As  for  the  count,  he  appeared  to  he  still  more  addicted 
to  sleep  than  Roger,  for  almost  invariably,  when  Roger 
awoke,  the  count  was  still  asleep. 

However,  one  night  when  Roger  had  gone  to  bed 
revolving  a  neAV  scheme  in  his  brain,  and  was  lying 
motionless  with  the  bed-covers  up  to  his  ears,  and 
reflecting  upon  all  the  chances,  good  and  bad,  of  this 
new  scheme,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  singular 
noise  which  he  had  more  than  once  vaguely  heard  in 
his  sleep  was  beginning  again.  He  at  once  listened 
most  intently,  and  recognized  the  sound  as  that  of  a 
muffled  file  proceeding  from  the  window  under  which 
the  Comte  d'Olibarus  had  his  bed.  Then,  without 
interrupting  his  breathing,  to  which,  on  the  contrary, 
he  applied  himself,  giving  it  all  the  regularity  and  the 
depth  of  sleep,  he  half-opened  his  eyes  and  directed 
their  gaze  toward  the  window,  which,  in  spite  of  the 
darkness  of  the  night,  spread  around  it  at  least  a  faint 
diffusion  of  light.  At  first  Roger  could  distinguish 
nothing;  but  by  degrees  his  sight  became  accustomed  to 
the  gloom,  and  he  then  discovered  the  Comte  d'Olibarus 
kneeling  on  his  bed  and  filing  at  the  bars  of  the 
window. 

If  ever  a  man  was  astonished,  certainly  Roger  was. 
Hence  he  lay  for  a  time  Avith  bated  breath.  The  count, 
no  longer  hearing  the  soimd  of  his  breathing,  paused  at 
once.  Roger  saw  that  he  was  being  watched.  He 
made  one  or  two  movements  in  bed,  yawned,  stretched, 
muttered  a  few  incoherent  words  like  a  man  in  a  dream, 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  REMEMBERS  THE  CHEVALIER.  309 

and  seemed  to  fall  asleep  again.  The  count  remained 
some  time  on  his  guard.  Then,  when  Roger's  breath- 
ing, calm  and  regular,  was  re-established,  he  resumed 
his  task. 

There  was  not  a  doubt  of  it.  The  Comte  d'Olibarus, 
so  fearful,  so  timid,  so  cautious,  was  himself  planning 
to  escape. 

Roger  promised  himself  to  take  a  hand  in  it. 

Four  o'clock  in  the  morning  sounded.  As  in  all 
probability  the  event  would  not  come  off  that  night, 
Roger  went  to  sleep  again. 

On  waking,  Roger  found  the  count  as  serene  as  usual. 
He  then  tried  to  engage  him  in  conversation;  but  he 
succeeded  no  better  than  on  other  days.  The  count 
even  complained  aloud  of  the  ill-luck  that  pursued  him, 
of  continually  having  thrown  in  his  path  a  man  so 
compromising  as  Roger. 

Underlying  all  these  complaints  was  such  an  accent 
of  genuineness  that  Roger,  looking  first  at  the  bars  and 
then  at  the  count,  began  to  believe  that  he  had  been 
dreaming. 

The  day  passed  without  Roger's  succeeding,  even  by 
word  or  look  or  gesture,  in  surprising  the  count's  secret. 
Then  came  night,  for  which  Roger  was  impatiently 
waiting. 

This  time  Roger  did  not  go  to  sleep,  but  he  made  a 
pretence  of  doing  so.  Nevertheless  the  count  lay  still 
in  bed  for  more  than  two  hours,  regulating  his  breath- 
ing by  Roger's.  Convinced  at  last  that  his  companion 
slept,  he  rose  on  his  knees  and  began  again  his  work  of 
the  night  before,  and  in  all  probability  of  preceding 
nights.     Roger  let  him  work  in  the  greatest  tranquillity. 

About  two  o'clock  the  count  broke  off,  and,  rising  in 
his  bare  feet,  he  advanced  toward  the  fireplace.     Then 


310  SYLVANDIRE. 

he  drew  up  the  stool,  and,  standing  on  it,  he  spoke  in  a 
low  voice,  although  not  so  low  but  that  Roger  could 
hear  these  words,  — 

"  To-morrow  everything  will  be  ready." 

A  voice  then  said  a  few  words  in  reply ;  but  the  words 
readied  Roger's  ears  only  as  enapty  sound  from  which  he 
could  gather  no  meaning.    However,  the  count  replied,  — 

"  Yes,  to-morrow." 

Then  he  listened.  The  same  voice  hummed  again  in 
the  chimney,  and  he  replied,  — 

"  Agreed,  at  two  o'clock." 

And  he  very  carefully  returned  the  stool  to  its  place, 
went  back  to  his  bed,  lay  down,  and  apparently  went  to 
sleep. 

As  for  Roger,  now  knowing  what  to  expect,  he  went 
to  sleep  in  earnest. 

The  next  day  passed,  like  the  day  before,  without  the 
count's  betraying  by  any  nervousness,  any  flush,  or  any 
sign  of  impatience  the  plan  fixed  for  the  following 
night.  He  was  the  same  man,  so  silent,  so  apprehen- 
sive, so  timid,  that  Roger,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
himself  rather  self-contained,  stood  in  admiration  before 
this  master  of  dissimulation  whom  chance  had  sent 
him,  and  who  so  far  surpassed  him. 

Night  came.  The  two  prisoners  prepared  for  bed. 
Roger  merely  pretended  to  undress,  and  lay  down  with 
his  clothes  on. 

Without  doubt  the  count,  on  his  part,  did  likewise. 
Soon  both  were  snoring  at  a  great  rate,  though  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  was  asleep. 

Toward  midnight  the  count  rose  in  bed  and  began 
to  saw  the  last  bar.  He  worked  an  hour  nearly.  Then 
he  got  up,  went  to  the  fireplace,  mounted  the  stool, 
and  said,  — 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  REMEMBERS  THE  CHEVALIER.    311 

"  Everything  is  ready." 

The  voice  replied  with  a  few  words  that  Eoger  still 
could  not  understand,  but  which  seemed  to  be  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  the  wishes  of  the  count,  for  he  con- 
tented himself  with  replying,  — 

"  Good  !  very  good." 

Then  the  count  got  down  off  his  stool  and  cast  him- 
self upon  his  bed. 

Half  an  hour  went  by. 

Then  the  count  arose,  went  to  the  door  and  listened, 
and,  after  assuring  himself  that  the  deepest  quiet 
reigned  throughout  the  interior  of  the  prison,  he  stood 
a  moment  like  one  in  a  dream.  Then,  with  a  slow 
step,  the  sound  of  which  his  room-mate  could  scarcely 
detect,  he  drew  near  Roger's  bed. 

For  a  moment  Roger  had  an  idea  that  the  count  was 
coming  to  assassinate  him,  and  thus  make  sure  of  his 
silence.  He  lay  on  guard  then,  certain,  although 
he  was  defenceless,  of  easily  getting  the  better  of  an  old 
man  who  would  have  for  a  weapon  merely  a  stiletto,  a 
knife,  or  a  poniard.  He  therefore  held  himself  in 
readiness  to  grasp  his  arm  the  moment  it  should  be 
lifted  above  him. 

But  the  count  did  not  raise  his  arm.  He  extended  it 
merely,  and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Instantly  Roger  was  on  his  feet  before  the  count,  who 
recoiled  a  step. 

"  Silence  !  "  said  the  count. 

"  The  more  willingly  as  I  know  all,  my  dear  count," 
returned  Roger. 

"  How  so  1  " 

"  For  three  nights  I  have  not  slept,  nor  have  I  lost,  I 
will  not  say  sight,  but  hearing,  of  you." 

"  Then  you  guess  what  I  am  about  ?  " 


312  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Perfectly,  and  I  am  ready." 

"  Dress  yourself." 

"  I  am  dressed. " 

"  Capital !  " 

"  You  perceive  that  you  did  me  injustice  in  not 
trusting  me." 

"  You  are  so  young!  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  courage  and  determination." 

"  I  know  it,  and  that  is  why  I  had  resolved  to  notify 
you  when  you  would  need  only  those  two  virtues. 
The  time  is  at  hand;  get  ready." 

"  I  am  ready !     What  are  we  to  do  1  " 

"As  you  are  aware,  I  have  succeeded  in  communi- 
cating with  two  prisoners  in  the  room  above  us.  One 
of  the  two  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  we  were  on  the 
point  of  escaping  together  from  For-l'Eveque,  when 
your  own  flight  caused  us  to  be  sent  to  the  Bastile. 
Happily,  we  have  been  separated  only  by  one  floor, 
and  have  succeeded  in  communicating  with  each  other 
through  the  aperture  of  the  chimney.  We  have  a  file. 
Each  of  us  has  sawed  the  bars  of  his  window.  Our 
two  neighbors  will  let  down  to  us  a  rope  that  they  have 
made  with  their  own  sheets  and  blankets,  to  which  we 
will  add  our  sheets  and  blankets.  They  will  then 
pull  up  the  rope,  attach  it  to  one  of  the  unsawed  bars, 
and,  as  the  two  windows  arc  directly  one  above  the 
other,  we  shall  descend,  they  from  their  window,  we 
from  ours." 

"  Capital !  " 

"  Then  it  suits  you  1  " 

"  Perfectly.  Yet,  my  dear  count,  now  that  we  are  to 
flee  together,  come,  tell  me  frankly,  why  are  you  in  the 
Bastile  ?  " 

"  Do  you  wish  to  know  ?  " 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  EEMEMBEKS  THE  CHEVALIER.     313 

"  Yes,  truly  it  would  give  me  great  satisfaction," 
said  Roger.  "  By  yours  I  can  rate  my  own  offence. 
You  have  been  a  prisoner  ten  years.  I  shall  know 
about  how  long  the  king  was  counting  upon  retaining 
me  as  a  boarder." 

"  Well,  I  had  the  imprudence  to  say  —  " 

"  You  had  the  imprudence  to  say  ]  "  repeated  Roger. 

"  That  the  king  —  "  continued  the  count,  lowering 
his  voice. 

"Well,  that  the  king?" 

"  Was  getting  so  blind  that—  " 

"That  —  " 

"  That  he  saw  only  through  Madame  de  Maintenon's 
spectacles. " 

"  What !  "  cried  Roger.     "  Ten  years  for  that  1  " 

"Hush,  pray!" 

"  You  have  been  in  prison  ten  years  for  that  ?  " 

"  Ten  years,  three  months,  and  five  days." 

"Ah!  mon  Dieuf  Well,  in  that  case,  I  am  in  for 
life." 

"  What  have  you  done  1  " 

"  I  ?     I  composed  one  or  two  songs  about  her. " 

"  And  it  is  known  1  " 

"  It  seems  that  my  wife  has  parted  with  the  originals." 

"  In  your  handwriting  1  " 

"In  my  handwriting." 

"Then,  my  dear  friend,  you  are  very  fortunate  to 
have  found  a  chance  to  escape,  for,  as  you  have  just 
remarked,  you  were  in  for  life." 

"Or  for  theirs,"  returned  Roger, 

"Which  may  still  be  a  very  long  time,"  replied  the 
count.  "Egotists  live  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  like 
parrots;  but  hush,  here  is  our  rope  coming  down." 

Thereupon    the    count   approached   the    chimney,   in 


314  SYLVANDIRE. 

which  the  cud  of  a  sheet  was  hanging.  The  two  prisoners 
then  set  to  work  to  join  their  sheets  and  blankets,  end 
for  end,  with  tlie  one  that  had  been  lowered.  Then, 
the  operation  finished,  the  prisoners  in  the  upper  story 
drew  up  the  whole. 

The  count  then  approaclied  the  window,  and,  with 
Roger's  help,  wrenched  away  the  two  bars  which  were 
now  held  in  place  only  by  a  bit  of  iron,  and  which,  on 
being  broken  out,  left  a  space  wide  enough  for  a  man  to 
pass  through. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  count  should  go  first  and 
Roger  next. 

Both  got  up  on  the  bed,  holding  themselves  in  readi- 
ness. 

They  heard  the  sound  of  the  rope  lightly  touching  as 
it  descended. 

Then  they  could  distinguish  an  opaque  body.  It  was 
one  of  the  prisoners  from  the  uj)per  story.  He  reached 
the  ground  without  accident  and  waited. 

The  second  passed  in  his  turn,  and  he  also  stood  in 
safety  beside  the  first. 

Then  it  was  the  turn  of  the  count,  who  reached  the 
ground  with  the  same  good  fortune.  Then,  last  of  all, 
went  Roger,  and  he  joined  his  companions. 

Twenty  steps  away  there  was  a  sentinel  who  kept 
pacing  back  and  forth,  sometimes  turning  his  back  upon 
the  fugitives,  sometimes  coming  toward  them. 

There  was  no  way  of  escape  except  by  going  within 
ten  steps  of  him.  They  must  leap  from  the  rampart 
into  the  foss,  swim  the  foss,  scale  the  opposite  slope, 
let  themselves  down  from  there  on  some  low-roofed 
house  of  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine,  and  escape  by 
way  of  the  mansards  or  the  gutters.  There  were  twenty 
chances  of  breaking  their  necks. 


THE  KING  AT  LAST  REMEMBERS  THE  CHEVALIER.     315 

It  was  nevertheless  agreed  that,  just  as  the  sentinel 
was  about  to  turn,  the  four  fugitives  should  make  a 
dash,   every  man  for  himself. 

So  said,  so  done.  The  soldier  went  the  length  of  his 
beat;   then  he  turned. 

At  the  same  instant  the  four  fugitives  ran  straight  for 
the  ditch. 

Roger  heard  the  sentinel's  challenge,  "Who  goes 
there?  "  saw  a  long  flash  followed  by  a  report,  felt  one 
of  his  comrades  roll  between  his  legs,  and  became  con- 
scious at  the  same  time,  by  a  sensation  as  from  the 
violent  lash  of  a  whip,  that  he  was  struck  in  the  side ; 
but  he  plunged  into  the  ditch,  nevertheless,  and  began 
to  swim  for  the  opposite  bank.  Meanwhile  a  great 
hue  and  cry  arose  from  the  Bastile.  Windows  became 
alight,  torches  began  to  move  rapidly  about,  and  the 
soldiers  shouted :  "  To  arms !  to  arms  !  " 

Roger  kept  on  swimming.  The  water  prevented  his 
feeling  pain.  Hence  he  reached  the  bank  thinking 
himself  but  slightly  wounded ;  but  he  had  barely  set 
foot  upon  the  ground  before  he  felt  that  his  strength 
was   failing. 

He  summoned,  therefore  all  his  courage,  and,  aiding 
himself  with  his  hands,  continued  to  toil  up  the  grassy 
slope;  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  sky  had  turned  the 
color  of  blood.  A  ringing  noise  like  that  of  a  bell 
sounded  in  his  ears.  He  tried  to  speak,  to  call  mechani- 
cally for  help,  and  his  voice  died  in  his  throat.  Then 
he  raised  himself  again,  beating  the  air  with  his  hands, 
made  a  last  effort,  in  which  his  remaining  faculties  Avere 
exhausted,  and  fell  back  fainting. 

His  two  remaining  comrades  continued  their  flight. 
As  we  have  said,  it  had  been  agreed  that  each  mac 
should  think  only  of  himself. 


316  SYLVANDIRE. 


XXIII. 

HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'aNGUILHEM  WENT  FROM  THE 
BASTILE  TO  THE  CHATEAU  DE  CHALON-SUR-SAONE, 
AKp  MADE  THE  JOURNEY  IN  COMPANY  WITH  AN 
OFFICER    OF   VERY    SPRIGHTLY    CHARACTER. 

The  Comto  d'Olibarus  was  killed,  and  Eoger  was 
dangerously  wounded.  The  count  was  buried  as  Kumber 
158,  and  Roger  was  returned  to  the  Bastile. 

But  Roger  was  a  Hercules.  In  three  weeks'  time 
he  was  on  his  feet  again,  still  weak,  but  quite  out  of 
danger.  What  is  more,  his  two  accidents  had  sobered 
him  very  much  with  regard  to  attempts  at  escape,  and 
he  was,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  almost  cured  of  his 
mania  for  flight. 

But,  what  he  was  not  cured  of,  what  he  promised 
himself  never  to  be  cured  of,  was  hatred  of  Sylvandire, 
to  whom,  according  to  what  Crette  had  told  him,  he 
owed,  first,  his  incarceration,  and  next  the  two  wounds 
that  had  resulted  from  it.  True,  in  ridding  herself 
of  Roger  by  means  of  For-l'Eveque  and  the  Bastile, 
means  so  commonly  resorted  to  in  those  days,  Sylvandire 
could  not  foresee  that  he  would  have  the  bad  taste  to 
attempt  to  escape,  and  that  those  two  attempts  would 
end  so  unfortunately  for  him ;  but  it  was  not  the  less 
true  that  the  cause  of  it  all  was  Sylvandire. 

Hence  the  chevalier  promised  himself,  once  free,  to 
visit  upon  her  a  cruel  vengeance.  But  what  should 
that  vengeance  be  ?  Roger  had  no  idea  as  yet.  He 
knew  only  that  some  day  he  would  be  revenged. 


THE    CHEVALIER   MAKES   ANOTHER   JOURNEY.      317 

One  evening,  after  he  had  all  day  given  himself  up 
to  these  soothing  reflections,  he  heard  steps  in  his 
corridor.  As  it  was  at  an  unusual  hour,  and  as,  after 
four  or  five  months  of  prison  life,  he  was  beginning  to 
know  the  ways  of  such  establishments,  he  was  convinced 
that  a  new  turn  was  to  be  given  to  his  affairs.  In  fact, 
two  soldiers  entered  and  stationed  themselves  at  either 
side  of  his  door.  The  governor  followed  them,  and 
after  saluting  Roger,  he  invited  the  latter  to  gather  up 
his  belongings  in  the  room  and  follow  him.  The 
inventory  was  not  long.  One  of  the  turnkeys  shouldered 
■  the  little  bundle,  and  Roger  obeyed  the  governor. 

They  traversed  the  corridor  that  opened  upon  the 
inner  court,  then  the  court  itself,  then  the  archway,  all 
between  a  double  line  of  guards.  Then,  on  the  other 
side,  they  found  a  carriage.  Another  transfer  was  on 
foot. 

Roger,  who  was  beginning  to  be  skeptical  as  to  the 
memory  of  His  Majesty,  Louis  XIV.,  did  not  deceive 
himself  this  time.  Besides,  there  was  a  mounted 
musketeer  at  either  door  of  the  carriage  and  an  officer 
was  sitting  inside.  The  prisoner  then  saluted  the 
governor,  thanking  him  for  the  care  bestowed  on  his 
wound,  and  took  his  place  beside  the  officer.  Instantly 
the  door  Avas  locked,  and  the  vehicle  set  off  at  full  speed. 

Part  of  Paris  was  crossed  without  Roger's  being  able 
to  see  in  what  direction  the  carriage  was  taking  him. 
It  was  the  kind  of  night  that  is  usually  chosen  for  the 
transfer  of  prisoners.  However,  by  the  fresher  and 
purer  atmosphere,  he  soon  felt  that  they  were  outside 
of  the  capital.  He  leaned  toward  the  window,  from 
which  he  could  make  out  trees  and  fields;  but  as  he 
appeared  very  much  absorbed  in  the  sight,  the  officer 
remarked,  — 


318  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  I  warn  yon,  monsieur,  that  the  coach  is  locked,  that 
two  musketeers  arc  galloping  beside  us,  that  I  have  a 
pistol  in  each  pocket,  and  tliat  my  orders  are  to  fire  on 
you  at  the  slightest  effort  on  your  part  to  escape.  You 
see,  I  tell  you  this,"  the  officer  continued,  "because  I 
am  an  old  soldier,  and  I  should  not  like  to  kill  a  gentle- 
man without  telling  him  why.  Now,  you  have  your 
warning.     The  rest  is  your  affair." 

With  a  sigh  Roger  flung  himself  back  into  the  depths 
of  the  carriage.  He  was  beginning  to  entertain  a  lively 
esteem  for  material  force,  which  he  had  heretofore 
known  only  as  something  to  combat  and  to  vanquish. ' 

"  But,  in  short, "  said  Roger,  "  where  am  I  to  be  taken 
now  1  " 

"  I  am  forbidden  to  say,"  responded  the  officer.  "  Ah ! 
You  were  recommended  to  me  as  a  keen  fellow  that 
takes  advantage  of  the  slightest  indiscretion." 

Roger  gave  vent  to  a  deep  groan. 

"Come,  now!  come,  now!"  continued  the  officer. 
"  Use  a  little  reason  and  you  will  not  give  up  for  that. 
I  have  conducted  women  who  put  a  better  face  on  the 
matter  than  you." 

"  Then  you  are  taking  me  to  another  prison  1  "  said 
Roger. 

"  Oh!  as  for  that,  if  I  were  to  say  no,  you  would  not 
believe  me.     So  I  will  answer  frankly,  yes." 

"To  Pignerol  or  to  the  lies  Sainte  Marguerite," 
murmured  Roger.     "  Ah  !  Fouquet !  ah !  Lauzun  !  " 

«'Sh!"  exclaimed  the  officer.  " 'Sh!  Don't  spoil 
matters  by  talking  to  me  of  all  those  great  men.  Let 
us  go  along  quietly  now,  and  not  meddle  with  politics. 
Come,  I  am  a  good-hearted  fellow  myself,  and  it  is 
very  fortunate  that  you  did  not  fall  into  the  hands  of 
some  of  my  confreres,  so  surly  and   uncivil  that  they 


THE   CHEVALIER   MAKES   ANOTHER   JOURXEY.      319 

would  not  have  said  a  word  to  you  the  whole  way. 
I,  on  the  contrary,  like  a  man  to  be  a  gentleman.  I 
detest  not  talking,  and  I  consider  it  much  better  to 
make  the  poor  prisoners  laugh  than  to  make  them  cry, 
being  at  quits  afterwards  to  show  them  teeth  and  claws 
if  they  are  ungrateful  for  my  consideration;  but  I  must 
say  that  has  never  happened  to  me.  Come,  be  a  good 
fellow  like  the  rest,  and  I  promise  you  the  journey 
shall  not  seem  long." 

"Ah!"  said  Koger,  with  a  shudder.  "That  is  it; 
we  are  going  to  the  other  side  of  France.  Ah !  Mattioli ! 
oh !  the  Iron  Mask !  " 

"Again,  again!"  resumed  the  officer.  "Oh!  i' 
faith,  my  gentleman,  you  promise  me  a  very  disagree- 
able journey,  while  I  would  like  nothing  better,  for  my 
part,  than  to  make  the  trip  a  cheerful  one.  Come, 
rouse  up,  put  a  good  face  on  it.  I  do  not  mean  literally, 
as  your  face  is  not  to  be  seen,  —  although  I  can  guess 
that  you  are  making  a  wry  mouth,  —  and  I  will  talk 
to  you,  although  I  am  expressly  forbidden  to  do  so." 

"  And  what  will  you  talk  about  1  "  asked  Eoger. 

"  Ah!  dame!  of  matters  and  things,  of  rain  or  shine. 
Anything  is  better  than  sulking  like  a  pike." 

"  But  there  is  only  one  thing  that  I  wish  to  know. 
There  is  but  one  point  on  which  I  wish  to  be 
enlightened." 

"  Well ,  speak  out,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  "Where  are  we  going  1  " 

"  I  am  forbidden  to  tell  you. " 

"  Ah!  you  see,  indeed." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  am  not  forbidden  to  tell  you  where  we 
are  not  going. " 

"Oh!  tell  me,  then." 

"First  of  all,  let  us  settle  some  trifling  conditions. 


320  SYLVANDIRE. 

Promise  that  you  will  not  try  to  escape,  and  that  you 
will  not  be  sad  any  longer.  Ah!  look  here,  sadness  is 
the  death  of  me !  " 

"But  will  you,  in  return,"  said  Eoger,  "give  me 
your  word  as  an  old  soldier  that  you  will  deliver  a  mes- 
sage with  which  I  may  charge  you  ?  " 

«  I  ?" 

"Yes,  you." 

"  You  might  offer  me  one  hundred  crowns  and  I 
would  promise  you  nothing.  Why,  think  of  it,  my 
dear  monsieur,  your  demand  is  absurd.  Come!  And 
why  should  the  king  have  you  under  guard  if  not  to 
keep  you  from  sending  messages?  Now,  pray  be 
sensible  !  " 

Roger  reflected  that  he  would  gain  nothing  from  his 
comrade's  ill-will,  while  he  might,  on  the  other  hand, 
lose  a  great  deal  by  it.  Escape  seemed  impossible. 
Besides,  as  we  have  said,  he  was  for  the  time  being 
cured  of  that  monomania.  So,  after  a  moment's  silence, 
he  said  to  his  fellow-traveller,  — 

"  Well,  monsieur,  I  pledge  you  my  word  as  a  gentle- 
man that  I  will  make  no  attempt  at  escape,  and  that  I 
will  be  as  gay  as  I  can. " 

"  Well  said  I  Now  we  are  growing  reasonable,  and 
we  shall  have  a  charming  little  trip.  Come,  come,  ask 
the  questions  and  you  shall  be  answered. " 

"  Are  we  going  to  the  lies  Sainte  Marguerite  ?  " 

"No." 

"  To  the  Tour  Saint-Jean  1  " 

"No." 

"  To  Pierre-en-Scise  ?  " 

"  You  are  warm. " 

"  To  the  fortress  of  Dijon  ?  " 

"  You  burn ;  you  burn. " 


THE    CHEVALIER   MAKES    ANOTHER   JOURNEY.     321 

"  Then  we  are  going  to  the  Chateau  do  ChCilon  1  " 

Silence,  absolute  and  prolonged. 

"  But,  answer  me  now  !  "  cried  Eoger,  impatiently. 

"That  Avas  not  our  agreement,  my  dear  monsieur," 
protested  the  officer.  "  I  promised  to  tell  you  where 
you  are  not  going,  but  I  am  forbidden  to  tell  you  where 
you  are  going.  Suppose  that  I  am  compromised  by  my 
kindness  to  you,  and  that  I  am  compelled  to  swear  that 
I  did  not  tell  you  that  you  were  going  to  the  Chateau 
de  Chalon.  In  that  case,  I  lift  my  hand,  and  give 
my  oath  conscientiously,  for  I  have  not  told  you." 

"  Indeed !  Then  we  are  on  our  way  to  the  Chateau 
de  Chalon,"  murmured  Eoger  with  a  sigh,  as  he  fell 
back,  silent  and  thoughtful,  into  the  corner  of  the 
carriage. 

"  Come,  come !  "  said  the  officer.  "  Here  we  are,  given 
over  to  melancholy.  We  are  to  have  a  lively  journey, 
it  appears,  and  two  days  of  it !  Ah  !  I  warn  you,  in 
the  start,   that  I  will  not  put  up  with  it." 

"  What !  "  said  Roger,  "  you  will  force  me  to  be 
gay?" 

"I  have  your  word,  monsieur,  and,  as  a  man  of 
honor,  you  will  take  pity  on  a  poor  officer  and  live  up 
to  it.  Why,  think  of  it,  I  was  not  born  to  be  an 
officer;  not  I.  I  was  meant  for  a  ballad-singer  at 
Turlnpin's.  Hah !  speaking  of  songs,  excellent !  I 
am  glad  I  thought  of  that.  It  may  cheer  you  up. 
Ah  !  you  have  composed  some  droll  songs,  my  dear 
monsieur !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  1  "  demanded  Roger. 

"  Good  !  you  are  not  going  to  deny  it  ?  They  were 
found  at  your  house,   and  in  your  handwriting." 

"  I  have  no  idea  of  what  you  mean. " 

"  I  see,  I  see.  I  am  not  trying  to  extract  an  acknowl- 
21 


322  SYLVANDIRE. 

edgment;    Imt   you   are   of   a   satirical    turn,    my    dear 
monsieur." 

And  tlio  exempt  began  to  sing,  to  the  tune  of  a  popular 
air:  — 

"  On  (lit  quo  c'est  la  Maintenon 
Qui  renverse  le  trOue, 
Et  que  cette  vieille  guenon 
Nous  v^duit  h  Taunione. 
Louis  le  Grand  soutient  que  non, 
La  faridondaine,  la  faridondon, 
Et  que  tout  se  regie  par  lui, 

Biribi, 
A  la  fa9on  de  Barbari, 
Mon  ami." 

['*  They  say  that  't  is  la  Maintenon 

Doth  cause  the  throne's  downfall, 
And  that  that  same  old  harridan 

Doth  make  us  beggars  aU. 
But  it  is  not  so,  says  Louis  the  Great, 

La  faridondaine,  la  faridondon, 
And  I  the  trouble  will  regulate, 

Biribi, 
As  they  do  it  in  Barbary, 
My  boy."] 

"  I  was  not  the  author  of  it !  "  cried  Roger.     "  I  had 
the  misfortune  to  copy  it,  that  is  all." 
"  And  this  one  ?  "  said  the  officer. 
And  he  sang  again  to  another  tune :  — 

"  Tout  ce  que  fait  la  Maintenon, 
Ne  saurait  jamais  etre  bon. 
Cette  vieille  sempiternelle, 
A  donne  la  guerre  au  Voisin, 
Et  je  crois  que  Polichinelle 
Aura  les  finances  demain." 


Madame  de  Maintenon. 


THE   CHEVALIER   MAKES   ANOTHER    JOURNEY.     323 

["  Whatever  la  IMaintenon  does,  my  son, 
Is  never  done  as  it  should  be  done. 
That  sempiternal  old  baboon 
Made  Voisin  IMinister  of  War, 
And  Master  Punch  himself  eftsoon 
Will  have  the  Treasm-y,  I  swear."] 

"But  I  tell  yon,"  rejoined  Eoger,  "that  I  did  not 
compose  that  song   either." 
"Good!  and  this  one?  " 
The  officer  resumed,  to  a  different  tune:  — 

"  Ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  Maintenon, 
Margoton, 
Dit  le  bon  roi, 
Laisse-moi, 
Car  c'est  toi 
Qni  me  feras  rire 
Dans  la  poele  h  frire." 

["  Ah  !  ah !  ah  !  Maintenon, 
Margoton, 

The  king,  says  he. 

Don't  nag  at  me, 

For  can't  you  see 
If  you  have  your  way 
There  's  the  devil  to  pay !  "] 

"But,"  cried  Roger,  "how  does  it  happen  that  you 
can  sing  those  songs  without  being  arrested  ?  " 

"  I  am  singing  them  to  you,  dear  monsieur,  and  to 
no  one  else.  JPeste !  It  would  never  enter  my  head 
to  sing  them  in  public  nor  to  copy  them  in  my  own 
hand.  Not  that  I  do  not  find  them  very  droll,  and  to 
prove  it,  as  you  see,  I  have  not  changed  a  word,  heh  ? 
Am  I  wrong?  Come,  now,  if  I  have  made  a  mistake, 
do  you,  as  the  author,  point  it  out." 


324  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  On  my  honor,"  replied  Eoger.     "  I  protest  —  " 

"Hush!  No  more!  Certainly,  I  will  pretend  to 
believe  you.  Well ,  no !  It  was  not  you.  Come,  we 
will  say  no  more  about  it." 

"Oh!  luckless  wretch  that  I  am!"  cried  Roger. 
"  Oh !  how  imprudent  I  was  to  sing  such  things  !  " 

"On  the  contrary,  they  must  be  sung.  There  is  no 
harm  in  it;  but  they  must  be  sung  in  private,  while 
tete-a-tete,  as  we  are.  But  copies  of  them  should  not 
be  kept  at  home,  and  especially  copies  in  one's  own 
handwriting,  or,  i'  faith!  a  man  is  liable,  if  his  wife 
needs  to  get  rid  of  him.  Ah!  damie  !  She  is  so  easy 
to  tempt,  woman  !  " 

"What!"  exclaimed  Eoger,  "do  you  know  of  my 
misfortune,  too?  " 

"  What  misfortune  1  " 

"  Why,  in  short,  what  you  were  just  speaking  of." 

"  I !  I  know  nothing,"  said  the  officer.  "  I  spoke  of 
that  as  I  might  have  spoken  of  anything  else." 

Then  he  began  humming,  — 

"  On  dit  que  c'est  la  Maintenon 
Qui  renverse  la  trone." 

As  for  Roger,  quite  overcome  by  his  singular  posi- 
tion, and  beginning  to  fear  lest  his  mind  should  give 
Avay  in  the  conflict  of  ideas  besieging  him,  he  closed  his 
eyes,  and,  resting  his  head  against  the  side  of  the  car- 
riage, he  endeavored  to  recover  somewhat  his  clearness 
of  mind,  while  the  officer,  passing  from  one  song  to 
another,  continued  to  hum  the  seditious  stanzas  for 
which  he  seemed  to  entertain  especial  admiration. 
However,  as  Roger  had  not  slept  for  three  nights,  in 
the  end  he  succumbed  to  sleep,  nor  did  he  awake  until 
broad    daylight   the   next   morning.     He  found  beside 


THE   CHEVALIEK   MAKES    ANOTHER   JOURNEY.     325 

him,  still  fresh,  alert  and  smiling,  the  officer,  who 
inquired,  with  the  liveliest  interest  as  to  how  he  had 
passed  the  night.  As  for  himself,  he  asserted  that, 
relying  on  his  prisoner's  word,  he  had  enjoyed  all  the 
delights  of  slumber. 

Just  as  they  were  leaving  the  carriage  for  breakfast, 
he  asked  Roger  if  he  had  any  money.  Roger  was 
without  a  sou.  They  had  taken  away  everything  that 
he  possessed,  even  his  jewels,  through  fear  that  he 
might  use  them  to  bribe  his  keepers.  The  prisoner 
therefore  made  humble  confession  of  his   poverty. 

Thereupon  a  certain  conflict  between  a  good  and  a 
bad  impulse  appeared  to  be  taking  place  in  the  officer's 
mind.     But  the  good  impulse  won  the  day. 

"  Listen,  I  could  keep  fifteen  sous  of  the  two  livres 
allowed  by  the  king  for  your  meal ;  but  you  have 
been  very  amiable,  you  have  kept  your  word.  Instead 
of  being  extortionate,  as  certain  of  my  confreres  would 
be,  I  will  give  up  some  of  it,  and,  with  your  permis- 
sion, if  my  company  is  not  too  disagreeable,  why,  we 
will  breakfast  together." 

"With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Roger,  who,  in  such 
matters  had  never  possessed  very  exaggeratedly  aristo- 
cratic ideas,  and  who,  moreover,  did  not  care  to  fall  out 
with  his  companion. 

And  they  both  sat  down  to  the  table.  As  the  officer 
had  hoped,  the  meal  was  really  good.  Roger  ate  like  a 
convalescent  twenty  years  of  age. 

"  What  a  fine  time  of  life  is  yours  !  "  remarked  the 
officer,  regarding  him  with  envy,  notwithstanding  that, 
for  his  own  part,  he  had  come  off  with  some  distinc- 
tion. "  What  a  delightful  appetite !  Yet  I  was  the 
same  at  your  age.  But  I  was  much  gayer,  always 
singing,  singing  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  with    mouth 


326  SYLVANDIRE. 

stretched  from  morning  till  niglit,  singing  like  a  lark, 
like  a  goldtinch,  like  a  nightingale,  but  always  careful 
to  sing  other  people's  songs,  and  never  my  own,  unless 
I  was  alone  with  a  friend  like  you.  For  I  used  to 
make  songs,  too;  not  so  good  as  yours,  perhaps,  but 
they  had  their  merit  nevertheless.  Listen,  now,  here 
is  one  of  them." 

And  the   officer  began  to  sing  to  an  air  from  "  The 
Chimes:"  — 

"  Tonton,  ton  temps  est  passd, 

Vieille  coquette  1 
Touton,  ton  timbre  est  cassd, 
Vieille  pendule  I  tu  repetes, 

A  soixante  ans, 
Le  carillon  de  la  clochette 

Dans  son  printemps. 

Mais,  h  present, 
Ton  tocsin  tiutant 
Ne  reveille  personne, 
Quand  sur  le  tendre  ton 
Ta  grosse  cloche  sonne, 
Non,  non,  non. 

Si  Ton  t'entend, 

Ce  n'est  qu'au  son 
De  ton  argent  comptant." 

["  Tonton,  past  is  thy  time. 

Old  coquette ! 
Tonton,  cracked  is  thy  chime, 
Old  clock  !  that  dost  repeat, 

Though  past  thy  prime, 
The  carillon  so  sweet 

That  joy-bells  sing 

In  their  spring. 

But  now,  old  crone, 
Thy  wheezy  ting-a-ling 


THE   CHEVALIER   MAKES   ANOTHER   JOURNEY.     327 

Will  serve  to  waken  none, 
When  in  its  tenderest  tone 
Thy  hoarse  old  bell  doth  groan. 

Ding,  dong,  ding. 

Whoever  is  listening, 

He  listens  to  the  ring 
Of  thy  good  hard  cash  alone."] 

"  Hey  1  what  do  you  say  to  that,  my  cavalier  ?  " 
demanded  the  officer,  when  he  had  ended  and  had 
allowed  Roger  a  moment's  silence  in  which  to  appraise 
his  verse. 

"  Why,  I  say,"  replied  Roger,  "  that  you  are  very 
imprudent  to  sing  such  things." 

"  Why  so  1  " 

"  What  if  1  were  to  denounce  you  1  " 

"Bah!  who  would  believe  you?  I  should  say  that 
you  wanted  to  take  revenge  for  my  strictness,  and  it 
would  all  recoil  on  you." 

During  the  night  they  arrived  at  the  Chateau  de 
Chalon-sur-Saone. 

Roger  was  conducted  forthwith  to  the  room  assigned 
to  him;  but,  as  he  was  very  tired  from  the  journey,  and 
very  much  weakened  by  his  recent  wound,  which  Avas 
not  yet  healed,  he  cast  himself  on  his  bed  without  even 
looking  to  see  what  his  room  was  like. 

He  remarked  merely  that  it  was  lighted  by  a  lamp 
hanging  from  the  ceiling,  and  this  attention  pleased 
him. 


328  SYLVANDIKE. 


XXIV. 

HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'aNGUILHEM  BECOMES  AS 
WISE  AND  AS  WARY  AS  HAD  BEEN  THE  LATE 
COMTE    d'OLIBARUS. 

When  Roger  first  awoke,  lie  saw  the  lamp  still  burn- 
ing. Thereupon,  thinking  that  it  was  not  yet  day,  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall  and  again  fell  asleep. 

But  the  next  time  that  he  awoke,  he  wondered  at  the 
delay  of  sunrise,  and  gazed  about  him.  Then  the 
terrible  truth  dawned  upon  him.  He  was  in  a  cell 
without  windoAvs.  The  lamp,  whose  light  he  had 
hailed  as  a  blessing,  was  henceforth  his  only  sun.  A 
revolving  dumb-waiter,  designed  to  serve  his  meals, 
contained  the  breakfast,  —  proof  positive  that  the  day 
was  already  advanced. 

Ah,  then !  Brave  as  Koger  was,  his  misfortunes 
bore  heavily  upon  his  soul  and  rent  his  breast.  He  sat 
down  on  his  bed,  his  arms  listless,  asking  himself  what 
he  had  done  to  God  or  man  to  be  thus  abandoned  by 
the  one  and  maltreated  by  the  other. 

He  sat  thus  in  the  deepest  dejection  for  a  period 
whose  duration  he  was  incapable  of  reckoning.  Only 
his  dumb-waiter  moved,  turned,  and  came  back  laden 
with  his  dinner  in  place  of  the  breakfast  that  had 
returned  as  intact  as  it  had  come. 

Yet,  in  the  midst  of  this  profound  grief  by  which 
Roger  was  crushed,  nature,  ever  exacting,  claimed  her 
rights.     Roger  was  hungry.     Roger  was  thirsty.      Me- 


THE    CHEVALIER   BECOMES    WISE   AND    WARY.      329 

chanically  approaching  the  dummy,  he  ate  and  drank 
as  a  thirsty,  starving  animal  would  have  done.  Then, 
with  a  slow  and  regular  tread,  he  began  to  range  the 
limits  of  his  room  like  a  wild  beast  in  a  cage. 

The  hours  rolled  on  unmarked  by  change  of  day- 
light and  darkness.  The  days  went  by  without  his  hear- 
ing a  single  rumor.  Roger's  sole  distraction  was  the 
sound  made  by  the  turning  of  the  dumb-waiter  when  his 
meals  vrere  served,  or  the  motion  of  his  lamp  as  it  dis- 
appeared through  the  ceiling  for  a  supply  of  oil  and  a 
new  wick. 

But  the  hand  that  caused  the  dummy  to  creak  and 
the  lamp  to  ascend  remained  invisible.  Once  or  twice 
Roger  addressed  the  unknown  agent,  asking  the  day  or 
the  hour,  not  for  the  sake  of  knowing  either,  but  simply 
to  hear  the  sound  of  a  human  voice.  But  never  did 
his  questions  win  the  slightest  response,  and  the  prisoner 
very  soon  ceased  to  repeat  attempts  whose  futility  he 
recognized. 

At  first  he  was  beside  himself  with  despair.  Then 
exhaustion  succeeded  despair.  Sometimes  he  slept 
twelve  hours  at  a  stretch.  He  either  sprawled  like  a 
brute  or  sat  stock-still  like  an  idiot. 

He  once  hoped  that  he  was  going  mad;  and  at  the 
thought  he  burst  into  wild  shouts  of  laughter. 

But  he  was  not  so  fortunate.  As  a  stone  cast  into  a 
pool  momentarily  troubles  the  water  and  sends  the 
mire  to  its  surface,  so  had  rage  and  despair  filled 
Roger's  brain  at  the  blow  received  in  his  heart.  But 
just  as  the  water  gradually  becomes  pure  and  pellucid, 
the  prisoner's  brain  grew  calm,  and,  after  a  month  of 
this  captivity,  a  casual  glance  would  have  led  one  to 
think  him  subdued  and  almost  resigned. 

The    truth   was,    the   bitterness   which   had   at   first 


330  SYLVANDIRE. 

rankled  in  his  mind  had  gradually  been  precipitated, 
and  it  filled  his  heart. 

Then  the  appearance  of  resignation  came  upon  him. 
He  looked  as  if  he  lived  like  any  one  else.  His  mind 
grew  active  with  repose  of  body,  his  ideas  were  reor- 
ganized. By  dint  of  studying  his  situation  he  cauglit 
glimpses  of  a  thousand  confused  possibilities  of  which, 
when  outside,  at  liberty  and  among  people,  his  mind, 
diverted  by  exterior  objects,  would  never  have  per- 
mitted him  to  suspect  even  the  existence. 

He  went  back  over  his  life  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour, 
almost  minute  by  minute,  from  the  day  on  which  he 
became  Sylvandire's  husband  to  the  hour  of  his  arrest 
at  Cours-la-E,eine.  He  reviewed  the  brief  love  that 
Sylvandire  had  seemed  to  entertain  for  him,  but  which 
was  merely  the  physical  attraction  that  a  woman  feels 
for  the  first  man  that  has  caused  her  to  experience 
unknown  sensations.  He  saw  that  false  love  gradually 
disappear  and  make  way  for  indifference.  Then  he 
recognized  the  springing  up  of  the  first  symptoms  of  the 
dislike  to  which  Sylvandire  had  since  sacrificed  him. 
These  symptoms  had  followed  close  upon  Monsieur  de 
Royancourt's  appearance  at  the  Hotel  d'Anguilhem. 
This  dislike  was  very  soon  reenforced  by  that  which 
Sylvandire  conceived  for  her  husband's  intimates. 
From  that  time  strife  was  established  between  those 
two  natures  so  dissimilar.  Both  had  summoned  their 
natural  allies.  Roger  had  called  in  Crette,  d'Herbigny, 
Clos-Renaud,  and  hosts  of  true-hearted  gentlemen,  who 
had  at  first  counselled  an  open  and  aggressive  war,  and 
later  a  wise  retreat.  Sylvandire  had  called  to  her  aid 
the  Marquis  de  Royancourt,  Monsieur  Bouteau,  with- 
out doubt,  and  the  Jesuit,  Letellier.  Probably  they 
had  resorted  to  tortuous  measures,  to  underhanded  sub- 


THE    CHEVALIER   BECOMES    WISE    AND   WARY.     331 

terfuges,  to  evil  machinations,  and  they  had  succeeded. 
E-oger  was  now  in  their  toils,  bound  hand  and  foot, 
held  under  an  accusation  that  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  real  cause  of  his  arrest.  His  imprisonment  would 
last  as  long  as  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's  passion,  love, 
or  fancy  endured  for  Sylvandire,  and  perhaps  longer; 
for,  to  tlieir  dread  of  the  wronged  husband's  accusation 
would  be  added  fear  of  the  injured  prisoner's  vengeance. 
His  detention,  then,  might  be  indefinitely  prolonged, 
either  because  the  love  with  which  Sylvandire  inspired 
the  marquis  might  defy  time,  or  because  the  fear  with 
which  Roger  inspired  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  might 
prove  stronger  than  remorse. 

Then,  too,  Roger  analyzed  his  own  conduct  with  the 
same  attention  to  details  that  he  had  just  exercised  in 
the  analysis  of  that  of  others,  and  he  discovered  a 
thousand  ways,  under  the  same  conditions,  of  avoiding 
all  the  misfortunes  that  had  befallen  him. 

"Yes,"  said  Roger  to  himself,  "yes,  I  have  been 
nothing  but  a  fool.  I  should  have  done  as  do  so  many 
husbands  that  I  know  who  are  happy  and  respected,  and 
are  at  this  moment  walking  up  and  down  the  streets  of 
Paris  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  their  liberty.  I  should 
have  shut  my  eyes,  and  taken  up  with  Mademoiselle 
Poussette,  as  Crette  advised  me.  Decidedly,  the  others 
were  all  men  of  sense.     As  for  me,  I  am  a  fool. 

"Instead  of  being  a  poor  prisoner  as  I  now  am,  I 
should  be  the  colonel  of  a  regiment.  I  should  have  to 
mortify  the  flesh  three  days  in  the  week,  it  is  true. 
But  on  other  days,  in  some  very  elegant,  commodious, 
retired  little  house  of  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine,  I 
should  be  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land  with  mistress  and 
friends.  The  king  would  bestow  on  me  his  blandest 
smile.     I    should   kiss   the   dry   hand   of    Madame    de 


332  SYLVANDIRE. 

Maintenon  once  a  week.  I  should  pay  court  to  P^re 
Letellier.  I  might  hold  a  duke's  patent,  be  a  peer  of 
France,  perhaps. 

"  Ah  !  really  I  am  a  fool. 

"  But,  no !  no !  a  hundred  times  no !  I  did  what 
I  should  have  done.  I  did  what  I  would  do  again. 
Honor  is  everything  in  this  world,  and  there  is  but 
one  way  of  looking  at  it.  Besides,  I  loved  that 
woman,  not  with  my  heart, —  my  heart  has  always 
belonged  to  poor  Constance,  —  but  I  loved  her  with 
pride.  I  loved  her  because  she  was  beautiful,  perhaps 
also  because  I  have  done  much  for  her,  perhaps  because 
she  owed  everything  to  me.  But  however  that  may  be, 
I  loved  her,  in  short.  I  should  not,  I  could  not,  have 
allowed  her  to  be  taken  from  me.  I  did  therefore  just 
as  I  should  have  done,  and  not  I  am  the  fool.  The 
fools  are  they  who  are  branded  with  infamy. 

"  But,  let  me  be  free  for  one  day  and  I  will  avenge 
myself  !     Ah  !  when  will  that  be  1  " 

That  was  the  question. 

At  For-r;^veque  E,oger  had  told  himself  that  if  his 
liberty  were  restored  to  him  he  Avould  pardon  all.  At 
the  Bastile  he  had  made  a  few  mental  reservations. 
At  Chalon  he  told  himself  that  he  was  twenty-two 
years  old,  and  the  king  was  seventy-five.  That,  grant- 
ing the  king  ten  years  to  live,  that  is,  until  he  was 
eighty -five,  it  was  all  that  a  crowned  head,  however 
exacting,  could  demand.  Then,  the  king  being  dead, 
the  prisons  would  be  thrown  open.  At  the  very  worst, 
therefore,  Roger  would  leave  prison  at  thirty-two. 

Now  Roger  asked  himself  which  he  would  prefer,  to 
leave  prison  at  that  very  moment  and  have  no  revenge, 
or  to  leave  in  ten  years  and  take  his  revenge  quite  at 
his  ease. 


THE   CHEVALIER   BECOMES   WISE   AND    WARY,     333 

Boger  answered  that  he  would  prefer  to  leave  prison 
in  ten  years  and  avenge  himself  like  an  able-bodied 
man. 

So  at  the  end  of  three  months  of  isolation  and  seclu- 
sion, Roger  had  become  a  deep  thinker,  a  consummate 
politician,  a  Machiavelli  of  the  first  rank. 

At  times,  could  a  person  have  looked  in  upon  him, 
he  would  have  been  seen  sitting  on  his  stool  with  his 
legs  crossed,  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  his  chin  in  his 
hand,  his  gaze  fixed,  and  a  smile  on  his  lips.  Such  a 
person  might  then  have  supposed  that  Roger  was  dream- 
ing of  his  father,  his  mother,  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie, 
the  beautiful  days  of  his  youth,  or  of  some  pleasant 
memory. 

No,  Roger  was  dreaming  of  vengeance. 

Eleven  months  thus  rolled  away,  the  prisoner's  heart 
never  despairing,  his  courage  never  failing  him.  His 
sunburnt  face  may  have  whitened  somewhat  during 
this  long  night;  his  Herculean  outlines  were  reduced 
by  fasting;  but  the  pallor  lent  him  an  air  that  he  had 
lacked,  and  the  falling-off  gave  him  an  elegance  that 
one  had  vainly  sought  in  him.  Roger  remained  strong 
and  handsome ;  but  Roger  was  becoming  a  hypocrite. 

Every  night  he  prayed  aloud  for  the  king's  length  of 
days  and  for  Madame  de  Maintenon's;  because,  you 
see,  eyes  might  be  watching  what  he  did,  ears  perhaps 
were  listening  to  what  he  said.  True,  at  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  and  in  the  same  breath  he  sent  them  all 
to  the  devil ;  but  that  was  inwardly,  and  only  God  and 
himself  knew  anything  about  it. 

One  morning  as  he  was  gnawing  at  a  crust  of  bread 
that  was  serving  as  his  breakfast,  the  door  of  his  cell 
opened.  A  voice  that  he  recognized  reached  his  ear. 
His  eyes,  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  — for  often  he 


334  SYLVANDIRE. 

went  liours,  whole  (lays,  even,  without  any  one's  think- 
ing to  religlit  his  expired  lamp, — distinguished  a 
superbly  dressed  gentleman,  who  advanced  two  or 
three  steps  and  spoke  his  name. 

It  was  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  coming  with  out- 
stretched arms  to  meet  Koger. 

Roger  seized  his  stool  and  raised  it  with  the  intention 
of  breaking  Monsieur  de  E-oyancourt's  head.  His 
enemy  stood  before  him.  He  had  but  to  drop  his 
massive  arm  to  annihilate  him.  Roger  reflected,  flung 
the  stool  on  the  bed,  and  ran  toward  the  Marquis  de 
Royancourt  with  open  arms. 

Thanks  to  the  obscurity  in  which  he  was  enveloped, 
the  threatening  gesture,  which  in  his  first  impulse  had 
escaped  him,  passed  unobserved. 

These  two  men,  who  mortally  hated  each  other,  pressed 
heart  to  heart  like  friends,  like  brothers. 

"You  are  here,  then,  my  dear  Anguilhem ! "  ex- 
claimed the  marquis,  drawing  him  outside.  "  Ah ! 
how  long  we  searched  without  finding  you  !  " 

In  spite  of  his  presence  of  mind,  Roger  was  astounded 
at  such  boldness;  but  he  concealed  his  amazement 
beneath  the  smile  that  he  had  practised,  accepted  the 
hand  that  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  extended  to  draw 
him  from  his  cell,  and  following  his  lead  while  effusively 
pressing  his  hand,  he  reached  a  room  belonging  to  the 
governor's  apartment. 

Passing  in  front  of  a  mirror,  Roger  hardly  knew 
himself.  His  beard  was  long,  his  hair  bristling,  and 
his  clothes  hung  in  rags. 

He  smiled  at  himself  with  the  same  smile  that  he 
had  bestowed  on  Monsieur  de  Royancourt. 

"  You  are  free,  my  dear  Monsieur  d' Anguilhem," 
said   the   marquis.     "  But,   vwn  Dieu !    how   does   it 


THE    CHEVALIEK    BECOMES   WISE   AND   WARY.     335 

happen  that  Ave  have  had  no  news  of  you  for  these  fif- 
teen months?  However,  we  will  speak  of  all  that 
later.      Let  us  be  off  now  as  expeditiously  as  possible. " 

"The  most  expeditious  way,  my  dear  liberator,  my 
friend,  my  brother,"  said  Roger,  "would  be,  I  think, 
to  ascertain  from  monsieur  le  gouverneur,  whether  I 
am  really  free,  —  a  thing  I  cannot  yet  believe." 

"  You  are  free,  my  dear  chevalier,  thanks  to  our 
entreaties,"  returned  the  marquis. 

"  Believe  that  I  am  truly  grateful.  I  should  say, 
then,  that  the  first  thing  to  do  would  be  to  ascertain 
whether  monsieur  le  gouverneur  would  kindly  lend  me 
a  room,  order  a  bath,  and  send  for  a  tailor  and  a 
hairdresser. " 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  chevalier,  you  shall  have  all 
that,  with  the  exception  of  the  tailor,  who  is  not 
needed.  I  foresaw  your  destitution,  and  I  have  in  my 
chaise  some  clothes  that  I  brought  from  your  hotel. 
They  shall  be  laid  out  for  you ;  and  at  the  same  time, 
if  you  will  permit,  my  valet  shall  attend  you." 

"  You  overwhelm  me,  my  dear  marquis;  but  I  accept. 
It  is  delightful  to  owe  everything  to  you." 

Roger  was  conducted  to  a  room,  a  bath  was  brought 
him,  and,  while  he  was  in  the  bath.  Monsieur  de 
Koyancourt's  valet  shaved  him  and  dressed  his  hair. 

Then,  on  emerging  from  his  bath,  Roger  made  his 
toilet. 

Not  before  did  he  himself  perceive  the  change  that 
had  taken  place  in  him.  The  one  quality  formerly 
wanting  in  Roger  had  been  refinement  of  mien,  that 
distinctive  mark  of  breeding.  Fasting  and  perhaps 
reflection  had  lent  him  that  refinement.  Roger  was 
now  a  finished  cavalier. 

Monsieur  de  Royancourt  was  himself   astonished  at 


336  SYLVANDIKE. 

sight  of  liira.  There  was  a  look  of  power  in  the  man 
which  lie  had  never  seen,  and  it  made  him  shudder. 
Resolution  shone  in  his  eye.  For  the  first  time  Mon- 
sieur de  Royancourt  thought  of  how  much  the  man  had 
to  fear  who  had  Roger  for  an  enemy. 

The  governor  desired  to  detain  the  gentlemen  to 
breakfast;  but  Roger  smilingly  answered  that  the 
governor  doubtless  forgot  that  his  own  had  been  served 
just  before  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  had  entered  his 
cell.  The  governor  stammered  a  few  excuses,  falling 
back  on  the  rigid  rules  of  the  institution  which  would 
not  permit  him  to  show  his  guests  all  the  attentions  that 
were  sometimes  their  due.  Roger  thereupon  replied, 
with  his  unfailing  smile,  that,  as  for  himself,  he  could 
not  complain,  so  thoroughly  well  treated  had  he  been. 

The  chaise  stood  before  the  entrance.  Post-horses 
were  attached.  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  and  Roger 
entered,  and  the  carriage  departed  at  full  speed. 

It  was  with  deepest  ecstasy  that  Roger,  oppressed  for 
eleven  months  by  the  noisome  air  of  a  cell,  inhaled  the 
pure,  balmy  air  of  the  month  of  May.  It  was  with 
inexpressible  happiness  that  Roger  beheld,  instead  of 
the  gloomy  boundary  of  four  walls,  the  landscape  with 
its  wide  plains  and  distant  blue  mountains,  but  all  this 
pleasure,  all  this  enjoyment  was  confined  within.  He 
was  as  impenetrable  in  his  happiness  as  in  his  hatred, 
and  he  looked  again  upon  this  nature  that  he  so  loved 
with  the  same  smile  with  which  he  looked  at  the  man 
he  so  hated. 

And  from  time  to  time  he  answered  the  other's 
questions  with  an  affectionate  glance  or  a  friendly  tone, 
and  renewed  his  assurances  of  gratitude  and  devotion. 

At  last  the  conversation,  marked  for  a  time  on  the 
marquis'  side  by  a  certain  embarrassment  of  which  he 


THE   CHEVALIER  BECOMES   WISE   AND   WARY,     337 

was  not  quite  master,  and  on  Eoger's  by  an  emotion 
that  he  had  not  power  entirely  to  stifle,  assumed  a  more 
even  tone. 

Roger  summoned  up  all  his  courage,  steadied  his 
voice,  and  asked  for  news  of  Sylvandire. 

"Alas  !  poor  woman!  "  returned  Monsieur  de  Eoyan- 
court.  "You  have  caused  her  great  sorrow,  and  you 
owe  her  great  amends." 

"  Ah !  "  murmured  Eoger,  "  indeed !  " 

"Unquestionably,"  answered  Monsieur  de  Eoyan- 
court.  "  At  first,  although  you  had  threatened  to  leave 
her,  she  would  not  believe  in  your  departure,  and 
thought  it  only  a  joke.  But  when  she  saw  one,  two, 
three  days  go  by  without  your  return,  she  was  indeed 
obliged  to  succumb  before  the  evidence.  Then  she 
became  almost  demented.  For  a  week  there  was  noth- 
ing but  sighs  and  tears.  Finally,  she  Avent  to  Monsieur 
d'Argenson  to  find  out  where  you  were.  Monsieur 
d'Argenson  knew  only  that  you  were  no  longer  in 
France.  As  you  may  suppose,  at  this  news  her  despair 
increased,  and  one  fine  day,  on  presenting  himself  at 
your  house,  her  father  learned  that  she  had  set  out  that 
very  morning  to  discover  and  to  rejoin  you  wherever 
you  might  be.  For  three  months  no  one  knew  what 
had  become  of  her,  poor  woman  !  And  the  king,  who 
knows  everything  that  happens  in  his  realm,  learning 
of  this  adventure,  declared  that  j'-ou  were  a  bad  hus- 
band, a  wicked  example,  and  ordered  that  you  should 
be  arrested." 

"  Good  and  excellent  king!  "  cried  the  chevalier  most 
earnestly. 

"  Then  it  was  that  the  search  was  made  at  your  house 
Avhen  the  unfortunate  verses  were  found  which  have 
caused  all  the  trouble." 

22 


338  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  And  wliicli  I  sincerely  repent  having  preserved. 
For  you  do  not  think  nie  capable  of  such  ingratitude  as 
to  be  the  author  of  them,  do  you?  " 

"Oh!  I  have  never  thought  so.  It  was  in  that  con- 
viction that  I  pleaded  your  cause." 

"  My  deliverer  !  "  cried  the  chevalier,  gra'^ping  both 
hands  of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt.  "  Uut  let  us  return 
to  Sylvandire,  I  beg." 

"  Well,  my  dear  friend,  Sylvandire  arrived  in  London 
after  you.  She  learned  that  yovi  had  just  set  out  for 
France.  She  followed  you.  At  Dover  she  was  a  day 
too  late ;  at  Calais,  two  hours. " 

"  Dear  Sylvandire  !  "  murmured  the  chevalier  with 
the  most  conjugal  emphasis. 

"At  Calais  she  learned  of  your  departure  for  Paris, 
and,  without  losing  a  moment,  without  stopping  to  rest, 
much  as  she  must  have  needed  to  do  so,  she  also  set  out, 
hoping  to  overtake  you  on  the  Avay;  but  her  hope  was 
deceived.  Not  having  overtaken  you,  she  hoped  to 
find  you  at  the  hotel,  and  she  sat  up  all  night  without 
rest,  because  she  looked  for  you  to  arrive  at  any  moment; 
but  you  did  not  come.     Judge  of  her  grief  !  " 

"Ah,  marquis,  marquis,  you  torture  my  soul!  "  cried 
Koger,  as  he  wiped  his  eyes  with  his  handkerchief. 
"  What  then  1  Continue.  And  I  could  suspect  such 
a  wife!  ah,  you  are  right,  marquis;  I  am  guilty. 
What  next  did  she  do?     What  next?  " 

"  Well,"  resumed  the  marquis,  deceived  by  -  the 
naturalness  with  which  Roger  played  his  part,  "  what 
could  you  expect  me  to  tell  you  after  that  ?  Her  days 
were  spent  in  grief,  in  tears;  for  you  did  not  appear, 
and  we  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  you." 

"You  did  not  know  that  I  was  in  prison?  Well, 
on  my  word  of  honor,  I  suspected  as  much." 


THE    CHEVALIER    BECOMES   WISE    AND   WARY.     339 

"Oh!  won  Dkn  !  no,  we  did  not  know  it.  Monsieur 
d'Argenson,  dreading  to  be  solicited  by  Madame 
d'Anguilhem,  or  forced  by  me,  whom  he  knew  to 
have  influence,  Monsieur  d'Argenson  apprised  us  of 
your  imprisonment  only  about  a  fortnight  ago.  And 
then,  as  you  may  suppose,  Sylvandire  took  the  field. 
Monsieur  de  Bouteau  and  I,  for  our  parts,  did  like- 
wise, and  we  have  so  begged  and  entreated  and  besought 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  so  encompassed  the  king,  that 
we  have  at  last  obtained  your  pardon.  Ah  !  my  dear 
Anguilhem,"  added  the  marquis  feelingly,  "ah!  how 
we   have   suffered  !  " 

"  And  all  that  time  I  was  accusing  you  of  lukewarm- 
ness.  Ah!  wretch,  ingrate  that  I  am!  You  have 
pardoned  me;  but  do  you  think  that  she  will  ever 
pardon   me,    marquis  ?  " 

"A  woman's  soul  is  a  treasury  of  indulgence," 
replied  the  marquis.     "  Hope,  then,  my  dear  chevalier." 

"  And  now  that  you  have  reassured  me  somewhat 
upon  that  point,  a  word  of  my  parents,  my  dear  marquis. 
My  conjugal  affection,  you  see,  has  caused  me  to  forget 
filial  affection.  The  baron  and  the  baroness  are  in 
good   health,   I   trust?  " 

"Yes,  thank  God!  and,  through  your  wife's  fore- 
thought, they  are  both  notified  that  you  are  about  to 
return  from  a  long  journey;  for  they,  like  us,  were 
ignorant   of  your   captivity." 

"  Thoughtful  Sylvandire !  And  our  acquaintances, 
d'Herbigny,  Clos-Kenaud,  Crette?" 

The  last  name  escaped  Roger  carelessly  rather  than 
deliberately. 

The  marquis  was  caught  by  the  careless  manner. 

"Why,  as  you  know,"  he  returned,"!  see  little  of 
your  friends,  who  pass  at  court  for  libertines,  haunting 


340  SYLVANDIRE. 

the  Palais  Royal.  I  believe,  however,  that  they  are 
well,  especially  Monsieur  de  Crette,  with  whom  I 
regret  having  had  some  differences ;  but,  thank  heaven, 
everything  is  adjusted  between  us." 

"Ah,  indeed!  You  have  had  differences  on  account 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon  ?  Of  course  it  is  wrong  of 
Crettd  not  to  admire  that  noble,  that  saintly  woman. 
But,  as  you  have  just  remarked,  the  man  is  dissolute, 
an  associate,  I  believe,  of  Broglie,  La  Fare,  and 
Canilhac." 

"  All  lost  souls  !  "  declared  Monsieur  de  Royancourt, 
clasping  his  hands  with  an  air  of  compassion. 

"  Supposing  them  to  have  any,"  said  Roger. 

Monsieur  de  Royancourt  made  a  sign  of  misgiving, 
and  for  a  time  there  was  a  lull  in  the  conversation. 

Roger  was  delighted  with  himself.  He  had  just 
put  into  practice  the  rules  which  his  fifteen  months  of 
prison  life  had  taught  him.  He  saw  that  he  had  duped 
Monsieur  de  Royancourt,  and  he  hoped  to  deceive  his 
wife  as  he  had  deceived  the  marquis. 

With  slight  variations,  the  remainder  of  the  journey 
was  abridged  by  conversations  of  the  same  sort.  The 
travellers  journeyed  day  and  night,  halting  at  Auxerre 
and  stopping  only  for  a  moment  at  Fontainebleau. 

At  last  they  reached  Paris. 

Roger  saw  For-l'Eveque  in  the  distance,  and  rode 
along  the  foot  of  the  walls  of  the  Bastile. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  were  at  the  gates  of  the  Hotel 
d'Anguilhem. 

Evidently  Roger  was  expected.  The  entire  house- 
hold had  been  apprised,  and  were  drawn  up  to  receive 
him.  On  entering  the  court  of  the  hotel,  Roger  saw 
lackeys  at  all  the  doors,  and  his  wife  at  the  window. 

He  leaped  from  the  coach,  and  hastened  toward  the 


THE   CHEVALIER   BECOMES   WISE   AND   WARY.    341 

salon.  Sylvandire,  followed  by  Monsieur  Bouteau, 
advanced  to  meet  him,  so  that  he  encountered  her  at 
the   door. 

At  that  moment,  beyond  the  calmly  hypocritical  face 
of  his  wife,  Eoger  caught  sight  of  the  portraits  of  his 
father  and  mother  smiling  at  him  from  their  frames. 
Then,  seared  as  his  heart  was  by  fifteen  months  of 
imprisonment,  the  tears  sprang  to  his  eyes  at  sight  of 
the  only  friends  on  whom  man  can  rely. 

His  emotion  was  so  overpowering  that  Roger  fainted. 

Sylvandire  could  possibly  have  thought,  and  she 
doubtless  did  think,  that  his  love  for  her  and  his  joy 
at  seeing  her  again  had  deprived  the  chevalier  of  his 
senses. 


342  SYLVANDIRE. 


XXV. 

now  THE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM  SET  FIRE  TO 
HIS  HOTEL  TO  FIND  OUT  WHETHER  HE  WAS  OB 
WAS    NOT    WHAT    HE    FEARED. 

Three  days  after  the  scene  we  have  just  described,  a 
spectacle  patriarchal  to  behold  was  atforded  by  the 
Hotel  d'Angnilheni,  thanks  to  Maitre  Kouteau's 
charming  cordiality,  to  Sylvandire's  extravagant 
caresses,  to  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's  eager  sympathy, 
and  to  Roger's  hypocrisy. 

All  these  people  appeared  to  love  one  another  accord- 
ing to  the  apostolic  injunction. 

Now,  as  we  view  everything  in  this  world  merely  on 
the  surface,  we  all  allow  ourselves  to  be  deceived  by 
it,  even  when  self-interest  requires  us  to  sound  the 
depths  of  other  people's  motives.  Even  Roger,  finding 
himself  enveloped  by  such  tender  affection  whichever 
way  he  looked  or  turned,  was  occasionally  conscious  of 
doubt  in  his  heart. 

Crette,  unfortunately,  had  been  absent  from  Paris 
about  eight  days.  Roger  had  secretly  gone  to  his 
house  and  arranged  with  little  Basque  that  as  soon  as 
his  master  returned  Roger  should  be  told. 

Meanwhile  Sylvandire  was  unable  to  be  demonstrative 
enough  toward  her  husband.  She  asked  him  how  he 
spent  his  time  in  prison,  and  if  he  sometimes  thought 
of  her. 

Roger  assured  her  that  the  prison  was  a  very  pleasant 
abode;  that  the   jailers  made    very  attentive    servants; 


THE   CHEVALIER   SETS   FIRE   TO    HIS    HOTEL.       343 

that  he  dined  every  day  at  the  governor's  table ;  that  he 
went  out  with  him  in  his  carriage  every  afternoon,  and 
that  they  played  at  ombre  or  checkers  together  every 
evening,  after  which,  with  every  possible  mark  of 
respect,  he  was  shown  to  a  pretty  room  whose  only 
defects  consisted  of  a  door  with  two  bolts  and  a  window 
with  four  bars.  The  chevalier  feared  that  if  he  told 
Sylvandire  the  real  state  of  the  case,  she  must  under- 
stand that  a  man  who  had  suffered  so  much  had  much 
to  avenge. 

As  to  thinking  of  her,  Roger  fondly  assured  Syl- 
vandire that  he  had  done  nothing  else  from  morning 
until  night,  and  from  night  until  morning.  In  this 
instance,   we  know  that  Koger  told  the  exact  truth. 

Then  Sylvandire  in  turn  assured  Roger  that  she 
found  him  very  much  improved,  and  that  prison  life 
had  wonderfully  agreed  with  him. 

One  morning,  little  Basque  came  and  told  Roger  that 
the  Marquis  de  Crette  had  returned  half  an  hour 
before, 

Roger  left  his  hotel  on  foot,  took  a  carriage  at  the 
corner  of  the  street,  and  proceeded  to  the  Hotel  Crette. 
The  marquis  was  expecting  him.  The  two  friends  cast 
themselves  into  each  other's  arms. 

Crette  had  learned  much  of  what  had  happened  to 
Roger,  and  particularly  the  details  of  his  two  escapes 
and  the  injuries  resulting  therefrom.  But  the  marquis 
was  ignorant  of  the  solitary  confinement,  the  sunless 
cell,  the  torture  of  living  days  that  cannot  be  reckoned, 
and  last,  the  firm  resolution  taken  by  Roger  to  be 
revenged  upon  his  wife,  if,  as  he  believed,  his  wife 
had  been  concerned  in  his  imprisonment. 

Crette  could  but  repeat  what  he  had  written  of 
Sylvandire's     disappearance,    his     own    quarrel    with 


344  SYLVANDIRE. 

Monsie\u'  de  "Royancourt,  and  his  certainty  that  the 
■wife  liei'self  liad  brouglit  to  liglit  the  unfortunate  songs 
that  liad  been,  if  not  the  cause  of  his  imprisonment, 
at  leaat  the  pretext  for  it. 

As  to  Roger's  release,  it  was  due,  as  the  prisoner  had 
suspected,  to  the  persistent  elforts  of  Crette,  d'Herbigny, 
and  Chastellux,  especially  of  the  last,  who  was  dis- 
tantly related  to  Monsieur  d'Argenson  through  the 
women  of  the  family,  —  a  relationship  which  he  had 
until  then  almost  denied,  and  to  wliich  he  began  to  lay 
claim  as  soon  as  it  was  likely  to  prove  serviceable  to 
Eoger.  Yet,  when  Monsieur  de  Eoyancourt  found 
matters  so  far  advanced  that  there  were  no  means  left  of 
prolonging  Roger's  captivity,  from  persecutor  as  he  had 
been,  he  became  defender,  and,  as  his  influence  was  real, 
he  had  hastened  the  prisoner's  release. 

The  rest  is  known. 

All  that  Crette  told  his  friend  accorded  so  well  with, 
what  he  had  twenty  times  repeated  to  himself,  that  he 
did  not  for  a  moment  doubt  that  they  had  arrived  at  a 
most  accurate  estimate  of  cause  and  effect. 

Realizing  that  they  must  meet  only  on  urgent  occa- 
sion, the  two  friends  parted  with  renewed  assurances  of 
their  undying  friendship  which,  for  that  matter,  had 
been  sufficiently  tested  for  them  to  be  able  to  count  upon 
each  other. 

Yet,  for  the  entire  acquittal  of  his  conscience, 
morally  convinced  though  Roger  was,  he  wished  to 
gain  possession  of  material  proofs  that  would  admit  of 
no  appeal  on  the  part  of  the  voice  of  doubt,  which, 
at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  still  clamored  at  times. 
"  Perhaps  —  " 

In  his  cell  he  had  learned  to  think  without  speaking. 
Thus  far,  he  had  put  into  faithful  practice  the  enforced 


THE   CHEVALIER   SETS   FIRE    TO    HIS    HOTEL.      345 

lesson.  No  one  had  a  suspicion  of  what  was  passing 
in  the  depths  of  his  soul.     He  began,  therefore,  to  act. 

He  summoned  Breton. 

Breton  was  a  faithful  servant  and  one  on  whom  he 
could  rely. 

Questioned  as  to  Monsieur  de  Eoyan court,  Breton 
replied  that  during  the  chevalier's  absence  the  marquis 
had  come  every  day  to  the  h6tel,  and  that  his  visits  had 
ceased  only  on  the  day  of  Madame  d'Anguilhem's 
disappearance. 

Now  it  became  clear  to  Roger  that,  had  his  dear 
wife  cherished  the  laudable  purpose  of  setting  out  to 
find  him,  she  would  not  have  failed  to  inform  her 
household,  whereas,  Monsieur  de  Eoyancourt  himself 
had  admitted  to  Roger  that,  on  going  away,  Sylvandire 
had  said  nothing  to  any  one. 

Madame  d'Anguilhem  had,  a  month  before  vanishing, 
dismissed  a  maid  that  had  served  her  for  ten  years. 
To  Roger  this  seemed  very  suspicious,  since  jMade- 
moiselle  Clarisse  was  a  person  whose  faithfulness  and 
efficiency  were  too  remarkable  for  her  to  be  sent  away 
without  reason,  and  on  the  eve  of  undertaking  alone  a 
fatiguing  journey. 

Roger  hoped  to  extract  something  from  Sylvandire 
herself;  but  when,  hypocrite  even  in  love,  he  in  turn 
tried  to  learn  from  his  wife  how  she  had  employed  her 
time  in  his  absence,  there  were  endless  affectations  and 
coquettish  refusals  to  tell.  It  was  substantially  im- 
possible to  prove  that  she  had  resided  in  any  place 
whatever.  Sylvandire  merely  admitted  having  spent 
two  months  in  the  Convent  des  Filles-Dieu,  which,  it 
is  true,  was  a  convent  widely  renowned  for  the  austerity 
of  its  rules,  but  one  where  Monsieur  de  Royancourt, 
Madame  de  Maintenon's  friend,  came  and  went  at  will, 


346  SYLVANDIRE. 

his  sister  being  the  superior  and  liis  cousin  the  treasurer 
of  the  convent  aforesaid. 

To  seek  information  at  the  Filles-Dieii  wouhl  he 
procL^iining  aloud  his  diatrust;  hence  liogor  signified 
his  faith  in  all  that  was  told  him,  and  in  turn  assured 
Sylvandire  that  convent  life  had  greatly  enhanced  her 
beauty.  They  continued,  withal,  to  live  as  a  model 
houseliold.  More  frequently  than  ever  Roger  greeted 
Monsieur  Boutcau  with  the  allectionate  appellation  of 
father-in-law,  and  heaped  upon  Monsieur  de  Koyancourt 
the  most  friendly  courtesies. 

Those  of  his  friends  who  did  not  know,  as  Crett^ 
did,  that  all  this  tenderness  concealed  something  enig- 
matical, mysterious,  tragic  perhaps,  sneered  not  a  little 
when  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  young  couple's 
unsophisticated  fondness  for  each  other.  Nor  in  cer- 
tain circles,  as  will  readily  be  understood,  did  they 
fail  to  make  merry  at  the  expense  of  Madame 
d'Anguilhem,  the  virtuous  Penelope  who,  instead  of 
awaiting  her  Ulysses,  had  gone  in  search  of  him,  no 
one  knew  where,  but  certainly  where  he  was  not. 

Meanwhile  Roger  had  given  Breton  full  power,  and 
charged  him  to  bribe  any  of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's 
people.  One  morning,  while  attending  his  master, 
Breton  announced  tliat  the  marquis'  coachman,  whom 
his  master  had  ill-treated  the  day  before,  had  consented 
to  speak,  for  the  sum  of  one  hundred  louis.  Breton 
advised  the  chevalier  to  take  advantage  of  the  momen- 
tary dissatisfaction. 

The  chevalier  followed  Breton's  advice.  He  sent 
the  coachman  a  hundred  louis,  and  this  is  what  he 
learned  the  same  day  from  the  mouth  of  the  knave 
himself. 

Beginning  witlt  the  date  of  Sylvandire's  departure, 


THE   CHEVALIER    SETS    FIRE    TO    HIS    HOTEL.      347 

Monsieur  de  Royancourt  had  every  niglit  after  supper 
visited  the  little  hamlet  of  Luzarclies,  sometimes  on 
horseback,  sometimes  by  carriage.  He  spent  four  or  five 
hours  there;  and  regularly  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  he  took  the  road  back  to  Paris,  where  he 
arrived  at  four.  He  then  went  to  bed  and  feigned  not 
to  have  been  away  from  home.  By  way  of  additional 
precaution,  his  carriage  returned  to  the  hotel  at  mid- 
night, and  the  household  —  with  the  exception  of  the 
coachman  who  knew  that  he  sent  the  carriage  back 
empty,  and  the  valet  de  chambre  who  sat  up  for 
Monsieur  de  Eoyancourt  until  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  —  supposed  that  the  master  had  returned. 

Roger  was  on  their  track.  He  resolved  to  follow  to 
the  other  extremity  this  clew,  of  which  he  held  one 
end  in  his  hand.  Consequently,  he  set  off  himself  for 
Luzarches. 

There  he  began  his  inquiries,  and  learned  that  a 
young  woman  had  come  and  established  herself  in  a 
house  in  Avhich  she  lived  alone.  A  nun  attended  her. 
A  man,  whose  name  they  did  not  know,  but  who  was 
of  very  distinguished  appearance,  came  to  see  her  every 
evening.  Sylvandire  was  described  with  absolute  accu- 
racy, and  the  portrait  of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  was  so 
like  him  that  there  was  no  mistaking  it. 

Another  than  Roger  would  have  made  a  disturbance, 
would  have  challenged  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  to  a 
duel,  or  had  him  assassinated  by  a  couple  of  ruffians 
in  some  corner.  But  for  the  disturbance,  there  was 
For-l'Eveque,  for  the  duel,  the  Bastile,  and  for  the 
assassination,  a  mode  of  vengeance,  which,  however, 
did  not  even  enter  Roger's  head,  —  there  was  the 
rack. 

All    that,    therefore,    was    no    revenge,    since    such 


348  SYLVAXDIRE. 

revenge  brought  its  own  piinisliment.  What  Roger 
required  was  a  revenge  tliat  left  hiiu  free,  happy,  and 
yet  avenged. 

Besides,  his  hatred  was  concentrated  especially  upon 
Sylvandire.  It  was  Sylvandire  who  had  betrayed  him; 
it  was  Sylvandire  whom  he  had  loved;  it  was  Sylvan- 
dire who  had  given  liim  a  moment's  hai)piness;  it  was 
Sylvandire  whom  he  hated  so  cruelly  that  he  feared  he 
loved  her  still. 

From  the  hour  that  Roger  bad  resolved  upon  revenge, 
he  had  determined  what  that  revenge  should  be.  He 
therefore  returned  to  the  plan  stored  in  a  corner  of  his 
brain,  where  lie  had  placed  it  for  use  when  the  time 
came.  His  soul,  it  must  be  said,  from  the  date  of  his 
release  from  prison,  was  nothing  else  than  a  stormy 
sea  whose  vast  waves  rose  high  and  died  away.  Like 
tempests  brooded  his  thoughts,  athwart  which,  from 
time  to  time,  gleamed  a  good  motive  with  lightning- 
like  flash,  but  as  quickly  also  it  expired. 

Now  sure  of  his  luihappiness,  now  certain  of  having 
been  duped,  he  felt  strong  and  considered  himself 
justified. 

It  was  necessary,  first  of  all,  that  Roger  should 
ascertain  to  a  certainty  that  he  no  longer  loved  this 
accursed  woman,  lest  the  execution  of  his  project  should 
be  arrested  by  one  of  those  heart  pangs  that  are  mis- 
taken for  twinges  of  conscience.  We  have  said,  and 
we  repeat,  that  Roger  so  bated  Sylvandire  as  not  yet  to 
be  sure  that  he  did  not  love  her. 

Therefore,  one  by  one,  he  analyzed  his  feelings 
toward   Sylvandire. 

When  he  came  upon  her  without  warning,  there  was 
a  keen  shock  of  the  heart,  a  deep  pain,  a  sudden  chill, 
something    like  the   cold  sensation  of  a  lancet's  blade 


THE   CHEVALIER   SETS   FIRE   TO   HIS   HOTEL.      349 

piercing  a  vein.  At  such  times,  in  spite  of  his  self- 
control,  Roger  grew  pale,  and  the  blood  rushed  back 
upon  his  heart.  The  next  moment  his  gorged  heart 
would  expel  the  blood  with  such  violence  as  to  cause  a 
giddiness  that  made  him  think  he  was  about  to  be  ill. 
Yet,  in  the  midst  of  all  these  sensations,  so  varied,  so 
conflicting,  so  convulsive,  he  must  live  his  ordinary 
life,  must  converse  indifferently,  must  smile  graciously. 
It  was  torture  more  cruel  perhaps  than  that  of  the 
prison  at  Chalon-sur-Saone. 

Sometimes,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  startled  out 
of  a  dream  in  which  he  thought  himself  still  a  prisoner 
on  a  wretched  pallet  in  an  infectious  cell,  Roger  would 
wake  with  bounding  heart,  panting  breast,  and  his  hair 
standing  on  end,  to  find  himself  softly  couched  under 
silken  canopies  in  a  room  voluptuously  lighted  by  an 
alabaster  lamp,  and  there,  sleeping  tranquilly  beside 
him,  would  be  Sylvandire,  that  glowing  siren,  that 
enticing  enchantress,  who,  under  a  marvellous  exterior, 
concealed  such  a  hideous  entity.  Then  he  would  rise 
on  his  rigid  arm,  gaze  at  her  with  eyes  fixed,  searching, 
and  deadly,  and  recall  that  story  of  Galland's,  which 
had  just  appeared  and  was  creating  such  a  furor,  the 
tale  of  a  man  who  had  married  a  vampire,  and  who 
saw  her  return  to  the  conjugal  couch  after  her  mon- 
strous feast  in  a  graveyard. 

Meanwhile,  Sylvandire  was  dreaming  a  pleasant 
dream,  breathing  an  amorous  sigh,  and  disclosing  in  a 
voluptuous  smile  the  white  enamelled  teeth  beneath 
her  coral  lips. 

Then  would  Roger  be  seized  with  a  fierce  desire  to 
stifle  the  woman  in  a  loving  embrace,  and  receive  with 
his  own  mouth  her  last  sigh,  that,  her  life  having  been 
another's,   her  death,  at  least,  should  be  his.     But  he 


350  SYLVANDIRE. 

carried  out  only  the  first  pait  of  his  design.  Tlis  lieart 
failed  liiiu  for  the  second. 

As  for  Sylvandire,  so  confident  was  she  of  her  power 
over  Itoger  that  her  days  were  happy  and  lier  niglits 
peaceful.  Never  had  she  chanced  to  surprise  the  fierce 
look  that  enveloped  and  held  her  unwittingly;  hut,  it 
must  bo  said,  never  hy  word  or  gesture  did  Koger 
betray  himself. 

Monsieur  de  Royancourt  continued  to  visit  the  hotel; 
but  he  was  visibly  becoming  disenchanted. 

"  Naturally,"  said  Koger  to  himself,  following  up  the 
cooling  process  as  he  had  followed  tlie  course  of  their 
love,  "  naturally,  possession  has  brouglit  indifference." 

And  he  redoubled  his  own  attentions  to  Sylvandire, 
who,  on  her  side,  impelled  by  a  sense  of  guilt,  returned 
her  husband's  caresses  with  forced  ones  in  such  measure 
that,  aside  from  the  madness  of  revenge  by  which  he 
was  possessed,  E-oger  was  really  quite  happy. 

Sylvandire  was  very  guarded,  and  yet  it  one  day 
happened  that,  tired  of  having  waited  in  vain  expecta- 
tion of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  for  nearly  a  wliole 
week,  without  his  deigning  to  send  her  even  a  message, 
she  wrote  a  very  reproachful  little  note,  and  rang  for 
one  of  her  own  people  to  have  it  sent  by  her  confidential 
attendant. 

But  Madame  d'Anguilhem's  servants  had  gone  out, 
and  it  was  Breton  that  answered  her  bell.  As  Sylvan- 
dire was  holding  the  letter  in  her  hand,  she  dared  not 
postpone  sending  it.  Besides,  Breton  announced  liim- 
self  as  quite  unoccupied  at  the  time,  and  suggested  to 
Madame  d'Anguilhem  that  he  himself  undertake  her 
commission.  To  refuse  was,  plainly,  to  give  the  valet 
grounds  for  suspicion.  She  put  on  a  bold  face,  there- 
fore, handed  Breton  the  letter,  and  said  indifferently, — 


THE    CHEVALIEE    SETS    FIRE   TO    HIS    HOTEL.      351 

"  To  be  taken  immediately  to  the  IMarquis  de 
Royancourt. " 

Breton  was  ascending  to  change  his  dress  when  he 
met  his  master  on  the  stairs.  He  therefore  displayed 
the  letter  of  which  he  was  the  bearer,  with  a  question- 
ing glance  as  to  whether  he  should  carry  it  to  its 
destination. 

Eoger  was  about  to  yield  to  temptation  and  take  it, 
when  he  heard  behind  a  door  the  rustle  of  a  satin  robe. 
He  knew  that  Sylvandire  was  spying. 

"  A  letter  from  madame  to  Monsieur  de  Eoyancourt," 
said  the  valet. 

"Very  well;  deliver  it  at  once,"  answered  Roger, 
"  and  say  to  the  marquis  for  me  that  it  is  unkind  of 
him  thus  to  neglect  us;  that  I  have  not  seen  him  for 
eight  days ;  that  I  am  highly  indignant  at  such  indiffer- 
ence, and  that  I  forgive  him  only  on  tlie  condition  that 
he  comes  to  dine  with  us  this  very  day. " 

"But,  monsieur,"  said  Breton. 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right,  go,  my  friend,  go,"  pursued 
Roger.     "  I  am  not  needing  you  at  present." 

Then  he  descended  ten  or  twelve  steps,  and,  to 
Breton's  great  amazement,  entered  Sylvandire's  room. 

"It  was  very  good  of  you,  my  dear,"  said  he,  as  he 
drew  down  his  ruffles,  and  arranged  the  folds  of  his  jabot, 
"  very  good  of  you  to  send  for  dear  Roj'ancourt.  I 
wish  him  to  taste  the  roe  that  my  father  has  sent  us  from 
Anguilhem. " 

Sylvandire,  who,  in  this  brief  space,  had  turned  red, 
white,  yellow,  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  in  short, 
collected  her  wits  and  resumed  her  smile, 

"  What  a  delightful  husband  I  have!"  thought  she, 
kissing  Roger  on  both  cheeks, 

"  What   a   weak   master   I    have    the    misfortune    to 


352  SYLVANDIRE. 

serve!"  said  Breton  to  himself.  "Would  any  one 
suppose  this  to  l^e  the  same  gentleman  that  gave  Mon- 
sieur de  Kollinski  such  a  terrible  sword-thrust  at  his 
first  affair?     Mere  luck!" 

At  dinner-time,  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  was 
announced.  The  double  invitation  that  he  had  received 
had  touched  him  undoubtedly,  for  he  was  excessively 
friendly.  As  for  Sylvandire,  she  was  radiant.  Iloger 
observed  them  not  too  closely,  was  witty  without  being 
caustic,  and  animated  without  seeming  forced. 

At  dessert,  he  surprised  some  very  expressive  glances 
exchanged  between  his  wife  and  their  guest. 

Soon  after  they  had  risen  from  the  table,  and  as 
they  were  passing  into  the  salon  for  coffee,  he  saw  the 
marqiiis,  who  was  escorting  Sylvandire  from  the  one 
room  to  the  other,  slip  a  note  into  her  hand.  Sylvan- 
dire concealed  it  in  her  bosom. 

"Shameless  woman,  impudent  rascal!  "  muttered 
Roger.     "  I  could  kill  them  both  where  they  stand  !  " 

But  he  controlled  himself,  and  only  a  lace  frill  at 
liis  wrist  was  the  worse  for  it.     He  tore  it  into  bits. 

He  must  secure  that  note.  It  was  a  very  difficult 
thing  to  accomplish,  but  a  very  essential  one.  Iloger 
thought  about  it  the  entire  evening;  then  he  believed 
he  had  found  a  way. 

The  success  of  his  scheme  depended  on  calculating 
the  probable  moment  when  Sylvandire  would  seek  to 
learn  the  contents  of  the  note. 

"It  will  undoubtedly  be  this  evening  at  her  toilet," 
he  said  to  himself. 

During  the  whole  evening  he  did  not  for  an  instant 
lose  sight  of  Sylvandire.  He  assured  himself  that  she 
had  not  had  a  moment  in  which  to  read  the  billet  in 
question,  and,  after  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  had  gone, 


THE   CHEVALIER   SETS   FIKE   TO   HIS   HOTEL.      353 

he  concealed  himself  in  the  salon  adjoining  his  wife's 
dressing-room.  He  then  listened  until  he  heard  her 
enter,  and  when  he  divined  that  she  must  he  in  the 
act  of  reading,  he  set  fire  to  the  curtains  at  one  of  the 
windows.  Quickly  the  flames  leaped  to  the  ceiling, 
and  a  few  panes  of  glass  broke. 

"Fire!  fire!"  shouted  Roger, 

And  he  rushed  headlong  into  the  boudoir. 

Sylvandire  still  held  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's  note 
in  her  hand.  She  made  a  movement  to  hide  it;  but, 
on  seeing  the  wreaths  of  flame  and  smoke  that  filled 
the  salon,  she  drew  back,  gave  a  shriek,  and  lost 
consciousness. 

Roger  opened  her  fingers,  while  the  salon  burned,  and 
rapidly  read  as  follows :  — 

"  Let  us  forget  the  past,  Sylvandire ;  often  have  I  re- 
pented of  what  we  have  done.  As  for  your  proposition,  to 
flee  together  and  leave  France,  it  is  madness,  and  I  reject 
it ;  besides,  I  begin  to  be  ashamed  of  deceiving,  as  we  are 
doing,  an  honest  man  who  overwhelms  me  with  kindnesses. 
Therefore,  if  you  take  my  advice,  Sylvandire,  we  shall  sever 
all  connection.  You  say  tliat  you  are  dying  for  love  of  me  ; 
live  for  the  husband  who  adores  you,  it  would  be  more 
Christian-like." 

"Well,  well,  you  twofold  idiot!"  said  Roger  to 
himself.     "  Will  you  now  hesitate  1  " 

And  he  replaced  the  note  in  Sylvandire 's  hand,  still 
cold  and  lifeless.  Then,  closing  the  door  of  the  boudoir, 
he  rang  for  Breton. 

The  fire  had  consumed  the  curtains,  caught  in  the 
window-ledge,  and  scorched  the  wainscoting;  but,  no 
longer  finding  easily  assimilated  food  at  hand,  it  licked 
its  feeble  tongues  along  the  casings  and  curled  about 
the  wooden  balustrades. 

23 


354  SYLVANDIIIE. 

The  entire  liutel  was  on  foot  in  an  instant,  and  ten 
minutes  later  there  was  neither  fire  nor  smoke. 

Quito  alone,  Sylvandire  came  to  herself,  recognized 
that  she  Avas  in  her  boudoir,  found  the  note  crumpled 
in  her  hand,  believed  that  Roger  had  discovered  noth- 
ing, and,  quite  jubilant  at  having  escaped  safe  and 
sound  from  the  doubly  tlireatening  disaster,  issued 
forth  to  mingle  with  tlie  workers. 

As  soon  as  Roger  saw  her,  he  hastened  to  her  side. 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu !  my  darling  Sylvandire,  what  a 
misfortune  !  Your  room  is  quite  spoiled.  It  was  so 
fresh,  so  bright!  The  repairing  will  debar  us  from 
receiving  for  a  month  at  least." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Sylvandire  in  the  sweetest  of 
tones,  "  let  us  go  to  Champigny." 

"  To  Champigny  ?  "  repeated  Roger. 

"  Yes.  Do  you  dread  the  memories  the  place  will 
recall  ?  " 

Roger  opened  his  mouth  to  say,  "  And  why  not  to 
Luzarches?"  but  he  checked  himself. 

"  Assuredly  not, "  he  said  aloud.  "  And  you  know 
how  precious  to  my  heart  are  the  memories  that  would 
recur  to  me  in  the  house  that  you  have  rendered  so 
dear;  but  to  my  mind,  if  you  were  as  given  to  adventure 
as  you  are  adorable,  we  Avould  take  a  thousand  pistoles 
and  go  off  by  ourselves,  like  two  fond  'lovers,  on  a 
visit  to  that  beautiful  Provence  whose  airs  you  sing  so 
marvellously  to  your  harpsichord." 

"Oh!  my  dear,"  said  Sylvandire,  making  a  charm- 
ing little  face,  "  would  not  such  a  journey  be  too 
long  ?  " 

"Very  well,  very  well,  dear!  Let  us  say  no  more 
about  it;  it  shall  be  just  as  you  wish." 

But   Sylvandire    was   too  pleased  at  having  escaped 


THE   CHEVALIER   SETS   FIRE   TO   HIS   HOTEL.      355 

detection  to  Le  obstinate  in  her  refusal.  Besides,  she 
decided  that  by  going  away  she  was  likely  to  wound  the 
pride  of  Monsieur  de  lloyancourt  who  had  just  wounded 
her  love,  and,  as  she  desired  to  avenge  herself  on  the 
faithless  one,  she  returned  to  Koger's  proposition. 

"  Xo,  dear,  no,"  said  she.  "I  will  not  deprive  you 
nor  deprive  myself  of  such  a  pleasure;  and  besides,  I 
have  resolved  to  devote  myself  to  pleasing  you.  Com- 
mand, then,  I  am  yours  to  obey." 

Roger  restrained  the  triumphant  joy  that  filled  his 
breast.  He  made  all  his  preparations;  but,  notwith- 
standing the  haste  he  made.  Monsieur  de  Royancourt 
and  Sylvandire  were  reconciled  during  the  interval. 

Hence,  one  fine  morning,  the  marquis  proposed  to 
the  chevalier  and  his  wife  that  he  should  accompany 
them  to  Provence. 

This  was  not  to  Roger's  mind.  Nevertheless,  he 
appeared  to  hail  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's  proposition 
with  delight;  but  he  invented  a  business  pretext,  by 
means  of  which  he  postponed  their  departure. 

He  hoped  that  meanwhile  a  fresh  quarrel  would  arise 
which  would  bring  about  another  falling  out. 

He  was  not  deceived. 

Roger  intercepted  a  second  note  from  Monsieur  de 
Royancourt,  in  which  he  announced  to  Sylvandire  that, 
in  order  that  their  rupture  might  not  this  time  be 
subject  to  the  usual  opportunities  for  reconciliation,  he 
was  on  the  very  eve  of  departure  for  Utrecht. 

Sylvandire  endeavored  in  vain  to  conceal  her  vexa- 
tion. Roger  could  follow  its  progress  in  her  face  and 
heart. 

On  the  very  day  of  Monsieur  de  Royancourt's 
departure  for  Holland,  she  first  resumed  the  subject  of 
.their  journey  through  Provence. 


356  SYLVA.NDIRE. 

"Oh!  on  my  soul,"  groaned  Roger  within  himself. 
"  I  am  playing  the  most  ridiculous  and  the  most  revolt- 
ing of  all  roles;  but,  thank  God!  we  are  nearing  the 
end." 

He  then  seized  with  alacrity  upon  his  wife's  over- 
ture, and,  as  every  preparation  had  long  before  been 
completed,  on  the  next  day,  the  first  of  June,  1713,  the 
young  couple  left  Paris,  as  loving,  apparently,  as  two 
turtle-doves. 


A   CHARMING   EXCURSION   TO   PROVENCE.        357 


XXVI. 

HOW     ROGER    AND     SYLVANDIRE     MADE    A     CHARMING 
EXCURSION  TO  PROVENCE,  AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT. 

EoGER  had  played  his  little  part  so  well,  in  the  words 
of  King  Charles  IX.  of  Catholic  memory,  that  up  to  the 
very  moment  of  his  departure  everybody  was  talking  of 
his  love  for  his  wife.  Every  one  took  him  seriously, 
even  d'Herbigny,  even  Clos-Renaud,  even  Chastellux, 
and  it  was  said  on  all  sides  that,  although  the  king  had 
been  unable  to  regulate  Richelieu's  household  by  means 
of  the  Bastile,  the  Chateau  de  Chalon-sur-Saone  had 
served  the  great  monarcli's  ideas  of  matrimony  a  better 
turn  in  the  case  of  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem. 

Even  Crette  himself  was  his  friend's  dupe,  and  gave 
credence  to  the  public  rumor.  He  knew  what  a  beautiful 
and  persevering  woman  could  accomplish,  and,  whenever 
he  saw  Mademoiselle  Poussette,  he  recommended  her  to 
study  Sylvandire  as  the  model  of  a  great  coquette. 

"Look  at  his  wild  schemes  of  vengeance,  —  all  still- 
born," he  said.  "Poor  Roger!  he  wished  to  kill  every- 
body, and  here  he  is  now  doing  anything  but  that. 
However,  perhaps  it  is  the  wisest  course;  but  certainly 
the  chevalier's  example  will  not  lead  me  to  surrender 
ray  liberty." 

While  all  Paris  was  engaged  in  conversation  of  this 
sort,  Roger  and  his  wife  were  on  their  way  to  the  South ; 
two  days  after  setting  out  they  were  passing  through 
Chalon.  The  chevalier  desired  to  observe  what  effect 
the  sight  of  the  prison  in  which  he  had  been  confined 


358  SYLVANDIRE. 

would  have  on  his  wife.  He  therefore  conducted  her 
to  tlie  castle  walls. 

"  Well, "  demanded  Sylvandire,  after  having  two  or 
three  times  looked  first  at  the  walls  and  then  at  him, 
"  why  do  you  wish  me  to  see  this  horrible  building  1  " 

"  Because  it  is  where  I  spent  eleven  montlis  while  you 
were  searching  all  the  world  over  for  me,  darling,"  an- 
swered Roger. 

Sylvandire  made  a  charming  little  motie  which 
meant, — 

"Goodness!  however  amiable  the  governor,  one  could 
not  find  it  very  entertaining  in  that  place." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Roger,  in  answer  to  his  wife's  thought; 
"  yes,  I  sufTered  much  there,  but  more  from  our  separa- 
tion than  from  my  imprisonment." 

"  And  we  were  so  far  from  suspecting  it,"  was  Sylvan- 
dire's  response.     The  "  we  "  struck  Roger  as  charming. 

On  the  following  day,  Roger  and  Sylvandire  reached 
Lyons,  where  they  stayed  two  or  three  days.  In  his 
constant  solicitude  for  Sylvandire,  Roger  would  not  per- 
mit her  to  become  fatigued. 

During  these  two  or  three  days,  Roger  and  Sylvandire 
made  a  pilgrimage  to  Notre  Dame  de  Fourvieres,  tlie 
most  famous  of  all  the  madonnas  of  France  for  preserving 
perfect  harmony  in  families  where  it  exists,  and  restoring 
it  to  those  from  which  it  has  departed. 

On  the  part  of  Sylvandire  and  Roger,  this,  of  course, 
was  an  unnecessary  precaution:  they  loved  each  other 
devotedly,  they  anticipated  no  diminishing  of  their  mu- 
tual affection. 

After  a  stay  similar  to  the  one  they  had  made  at 
Chalon,  the  couple  quitted  the  second  capital  of  France, 
and  halted  successively  at  Valence,  Orange,  and  Avignon. 

At   Avignon,    especially.       How   could   one   pass   by 


A  CHAKMIXG   JOURNEY   TO   PROVENCE.  359 

Avignon  and  fail  to  visit  the  fountain  of  Yaucluse? 
That  would  have  been  high  treason  against  poetry. 

Now,  in  those  days,  lovers  Avere  very  fond  of  poetry, 
and  especially  fond  of  nature;  they  loved  hill,  valley, 
and  stream.     See  "  Astree  "  and  "  Cleoputre." 

They  therefore  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  fountain  of 
Vaucluse,  just  as  they  had  made  one  to  Notre  Dame  de 
Fourvieres,  and  all  the  way  Roger  kept  calling  Sylvan- 
dire  his  dear  Laura,  and  Sylvandire  addressed  Eoger 
only  as  her  handsome  Petrarch. 

Beggars  to  whom  they  gave  alms  along  the  road  shed 
tears  at  sight  of  the  beautiful  pair. 

They  continued  their  journey  and  came  to  Aries. 
They  desired  to  see  the  ruins  of  the  city  which  at  one 
time  disputed  with  Byzantium  the  title  of  queen  of  the 
world.  Save  for  the  mistral,  according  to  the  savants, 
Aries  was  Constantinople. 

But  there  was  just  then  much  less  interest  in  antiquity 
than  in  an  event  that  had  happened  within  a  fortnight. 

A  worthy  bourgeois  of  the  town  of  Aries,  whose  mis- 
fortune it  had  been  to  take  unto  himself  a  wife  with  a 
character  the  very  opposite,  it  seemed,  of  his  own,  un- 
able to  endure  the  daily  annoyances  due  to  their  clashing 
temperaments,  resolved  for  his  part  to  become  a  wid- 
ower. But  to  become  a  widower  would  avail  nothing, 
unless  he  could  achieve  his  purpose  in  such  a  way  as  to 
be  shielded  from  the  rigors  of  the  law. 

Now,  here  is  the  expedient  to  which  that  worthy 
Arlesian  resorted  to  attain  his  end. 

On  the  banks  of  tlie  Bhone  he  had  a  country  house  very 
TOUch  liked  by  his  wife,  whose  custom  it  was  to  spend  all 
her  Sundays  there.  The  means  of  transportation  usually 
employed  by  the  lady  upon  these  occasions  was  a  charm- 
ing little  mule,  appropriately  caparisoned,  and  of  which, 


360  SYLVANDIRE. 

as  the  country-side  said,  as  much  care  was  taken  as  of  the 
pope's.  What  did  the  murderer  do  1  For  the  three  days 
preceding  the  accustomed  journey,  he  deprived  the  poor 
animal  of  all  drink;  it  followed  that,  on  Sunday  morning, 
accompanied  by  her  husband,  who,  for  once,  wished  to 
be  of  her  party,  the  dame  set  out,  riding  her  mule.  The 
latter,  constantly  on  the  lookout  for  water,  had  no  sooner 
caught  sight  of  the  Rhone,  than  she  broke  into  a  run  that 
nobody  could  check,  and  dashed  into  the  flood  with  the 
speed  of  a  stag  as  it  leaps  into  a  stream  when  hard  pressed 
by  a  pack  of  hounds.  Fortunately  or  unfortunately,  as 
the  reader  cliooses  to  adopt  tlie  point  of  view  of  husband 
or  wife,  the  Khone  was  at  that  point  so  swift  that  both 
dame  and  mule  were  swept  away  by  the  torrent;  and,  again 
fortunately  or  unfortunately,  the  water,  being  as  deep  as 
it  was  swift,  both  very  soon  disappeared  beneath  tlie 
waves,  while  the  husband,  chained  to  the  bank  undoubt- 
edly by  grief,  raised  a  great  hue  and  cry,  tossing  his  arms 
and  shouting  for  help  in  the  hope  that  no  help  would 
come. 

His  hope  was  realized.  The  wife  and  mule  were 
drowned  together.  The  liusband  regretted  the  mule; 
but  great  causes  demand  great  sacrifices. 

However,  the  affair  had  made  such  a  noise  that  justice 
bestirred  itself.  The  husband  was  summoned  to  appear  in 
court;  but  he  had  seemed  so  disconsolate,  he  had  shed  so 
many  tears  over  the  death  of  his  consort,  that,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  evidence,  the  judge  had  set  him  at  liberty. 

Sylvandire  was  deeply  moved  by  the  poor  woman's 
fate,  and  lioger  declared,  in  his  indignation,  that  if  the 
man  were  not  a  clown  he  would  seek  him  out  and  de- 
mand satisfaction  for  his  infamous  conduct. 

And  they  hastened  to  leave  the  unfortunate  town,  and 
the  next  day  arrived  at  Marseilles. 


A   CHARMING   JOURNEY   TO   PROVENCE.  361 

As  this  was  the  goal  of  their  journey,  they  made 
arrangements  to  stay  for  a  time  at  a  hotel.  On  the  very 
day  of  their  arrival,  they  went  for  a  stroll  on  tlie  Can- 
nebiere  and  the  Allees  de  Meilhan,  everywhere  making 
open  display  of  their  affection,  as  evinced  by  the  most 
extravagant  endearments.  People  took  them  for  a  recently 
wedded  pair  enjoying  their  honeymoon,  and  they  gazed 
in  admiration. 

In  the  hotel  where  they  stayed,  among  the  people 
whom  they  met,  everywhere,  in  short,  favorable  com- 
ment was  made  upon  this  fortunate  pair. 

"  What  a  handsome  man,  and  how  his  wife  adores 
him  !  "  exclaimed  the  women. 

All  Marseilles  was  talking  of  Roger  and  Sylvandire. 

One  day,  Roger,  who  had  gone  out  alone  in  the  early 
morning,  returned  to  their  rooms  and  told  his  wife  that 
toward  noon  they  would  go  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  Sardinian 
broker  through  whom  he  had  just  disposed  of  a  trouble- 
some piece  of  property. 

On  Sylvandire's  asking  what  toilet  would  be  suitable 
for  the  occasion,   Roger  replied,  — 

"  The  handsomest  you  have,  my  dear.  I  wish  this 
stranger  to  report  in  his  own  country  that  in  all  his 
travels  he  has  seen  no  woman  more  beautiful  than  you." 

Such  advice  Sylvandire  always  followed  with  an 
alacrity  that  did  credit  to  her  conjugal  obedience.  Her 
beauty,  moreover,  enhanced  by  elegant  laces  and  flash- 
ing diamonds,  was  truly  supernatural,  and  when  she 
entered  her  chair,  the  bearers  themselves  were  dazzled. 

The  Sardinian  lived  in  the  Rue  du  Paradis.  He  was 
a  tall  old  man  whose  beard  was  gray  and  pointed,  as  worn 
in  the  time  of  Cardinal  Richelieu  by  Jew,  Greek,  Arab, 
everybody,  in  short,  Sardinian  excepted,  and  he  spoke 
all   tongues.      He    seemed   to   be   impatiently   awaiting 


362  SYLVANDIRE. 

his  two  visitors;  with  brightening  countenance  ho 
hastened  forward  to  meet  them.  Sylvandire's  beauty 
seemed  to  electrify  all  who  came  near  her. 

Nothing  breeds  confidence  like  success.  Sylvandire 
observed  the  effect  that  she  produced;  she  was  adorably 
gracious  and  amiable. 

Like  a  gallant  husband,  and  to  show  to  advantage  the 
treasures  of  his  wife's  intellect,  Roger  turned  the  conversa- 
tion sometimes  upon  trivial,  sometimes  upon  grave,  topics. 

Sylvandire  supported  Boileau's  test,  and  passed  with 
perfect  ease  "  from  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe." 

Roger  swelled  with  pride ;  from  time  to  time  he  would 
give  the  Sardinian  a  significant  nod  which  might  be 
taken  to  mean,  — 

"  You  see  that  I  told  you  the  truth." 

And  the  broker  would  reply  with  a  look  that  clearly 
meant,  — 

"  She  is  a  woman  such  as  one  seldom  sees. " 

Roger  begged  Sylvandire  to  speak  Italian,  and  for  half 
an  hour  Sylvandire  engaged  in  conversation  in  the  Tuscan 
idiom  and  with  a  Roman  accent. 

Roger  begged  Sylvandire  to  play  something  on  the 
harpsichord,  and  Sylvandire  played  a  bit  from  the  opera 
of  "  Orphee, "  and  sang  to  her  own  accompaniment. 

The  strains  terminated  in  the  midst  of  applause,  and 
the  listeners  exchanged  nods  and  smiles  afresh. 

The  Sardinian  whispered  a  few  words  in  Roger's  ear. 

"  Oh !  as  to  that, "  replied  the  chevalier,  "  it  is  impos- 
sible! and  I  fear  that  madame  would  never  consent, 
whatever  my  entreaties." 

"  Why,  what  is  monsieur  saying,  dear  ?  "  asked 
Sylvandire. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Roger. 

"  But  what  is  it  ?  " 


A   CHAKMING   JOURNEY   TO   PROVENCE.  363 

"He  requests  an  impossibility." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  He  says  that  he  has  seen  the  Spanish  gypsies  dance, 
the  almchs  of  Egypt  and  the  bayaderes  of  India. " 

"Well?" 

"  And  he  pretends  —  " 

"What?" 

"  He  is  convinced  that  you  surpass  them  all  in  grace, 
and  he  is  sure  that  if  you  would  dance  a  minuet  or  a 
gavotte  —  " 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Sylvandire. 

"  There,  I  told  you  so,  my  dear,"  returned  Roger;  "  it 
is  not  to  be  thought  of." 

"Yet,  my  love,"  said  Sylvandire,  not  wishing  to  stop 
on  the  high  road  to  coquetry  and  conquest,  "  if  I  had 
some  one  to  go  through  the  figures  with,  I  would  will- 
ingly dance  a  minuet." 

"  Here ,  take  me, "  cried  the  old  Sardinian. 

"  Very  well, "  said  Roger,  "  and  I  will  supply  the 
music." 

And  he  struck  up  the  air  of  the  minuet  of  "  Exaudet, " 
while  Sylvandire,  with  her  grotesque  partner,  executed 
its  figures  with  ravishing  grace  and  precision. 

Sylvandire's  success  rose  to  a  triumph. 

"  How  old  is  madame  ?  "  inquired  the  merchant  in 
tones  of  profound  admiration. 

"Nineteen  years,  seven  months,  and  fifteen  days,"  re- 
plied Roger,  "  not  yet  twenty  years  old,  monsieur,  not 
twenty  years  old!  " 

"  You  did  not  say  a  word  too  much,  my  dear  mon- 
sieur," returned  the  Sardinian;  "and  your  eulogies  of 
madame  have,  I  must  admit,  fallen  below  the  trutli." 

"  Ah  !  monsieur  !  "  exclaimed  Sylvandire,  casting  a 
grateful  glance  at  her  husband. 


364  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  No,  upon  my  word, "  proceeded  the  broker  with  a 
leer,  "  you  are  the  most  charming  lady  I  have  ever  met, 
a  truly  Oriental  beauty,  a  pearl  of  the  seraglio,  a  veri- 
table houri,   a  priceless  woman." 

"  It  seems  to  mc,  dear  Roger,  that  I  am  very  gallantly 
complimented  in  your  presence,"  affectedly  remarked 
Sylvandire. 

"  No,  dear, "  returned  Roger ;  "  you  are  worthily  appre- 
ciated,  that  is  all." 

Thereupon  they  took  their  leave;  but,  as  he  was 
showing  them  out,  the  Sardinian  invited  the  couple  to 
breakfast  with  him,  tlie  next  morning,  on  board  of  a  tar- 
tan riding  at  anchor  off  the  harbor.  Besides  the  break- 
fast, there  would  be  the  sport  of  fishing;  it  was  the 
season  of  the  year  for  sardines. 

A  pleasure  party  so  novel  seemed  enchanting  to  Syl- 
vandire, who  was  accepting  cordially,  but  on  ^  observing 
that  Roger  made  no  response,  she  turned  uneasily 
toward  him. 

"Well,"  she  asked,  "why  are  you  silent?  Would 
you  refuse  1  " 

"  No,  my  dear ;  but  I  have  my  fears." 

"Fears!  and  of  what?" 

"  That  you  may  not  prove  to  be  a  good  sailor." 

"  Oh !  there  is  no  danger. " 

"  Then  you  wish  to  join  this  fishing  excursion  ?  " 

"  I  am  dying  to  do  so. " 

"  Your  will  is  law." 

"  Delightful  husband  that  you  are  !  " 

"  Very  well,  then,  my  dear  host, "  said  Roger,  "  expect 
us  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow, "  repeated  Sylvandire. 

"  To-morrow, "  echoed  the  Sardinian. 

On  the  morrow,  at  the  appointed  hour,  they  were  at 


A  CHARMING   JOUEXEY   TO   PROVENCE.  365 

the  Sardinian's.  A  neat  and  handsome  little  shallop 
awaited  them  at  the  quay  a  short  distance  above  the 
custom-house.  All  three  got  into  it  and  they  were  taken 
out  to  the  tartan,  which  was  moored  off  the  Chdteau 
d'If. 

It  was  a  beautiful  vessel,  built  for  speed,  and  it 
skimmed  the  waters  like  a  sea-bird.  It  was  commanded 
by  a  captain  thirty  or  thirty-five  years  old,  who  was 
noticeable  for  his  Oriental  face  and  his  foreign  costume. 
The  captain  spoke  only  Italian,  which  afforded  Sylvan- 
dire  fresh  opportunity  for  displaying  her  linguistic 
talent.  He  had  magnificent  eyes,  a  Grecian  nose,  and 
teeth  like  pearls. 

They  breakfasted  heartily.  They  saw  the  nets  drawn 
in,  breaking  with  the  weight  of  the  fisli,  and  they  agreed 
forthwith  to  be  present  at  the  torchlight  fishing  on  the 
next  night. 

As  they  went  back  to  their  lodgings,  Sylvandire  was 
tireless  in  her  praises  of  the  captain;  how  handsome  he 
Avas,  how  strong,  how  brave,  what  a  loftj'^  style  of  expres- 
sion he  had,  how  luxurious  had  been  his  entertainment 
of  his  guests,  how  obedient  his  crew  at  a  word,  a  gesture. 


a  sign 


"  Most  assuredly, "  said  Sylvandire  as  they  walked 
along  the  quay,  "  that  man  is  above  his  station. " 

"  Most  assuredly, "  answered  Eoger. 

The  next  morning  Roger  went  back  to  the  Sardinian's; 
on  his  return,  he  found  his  wife  laughing  and  dancing 
quite  alone. 

"Good!"  said  he,  "she  is  in  love  with  the  captain 
already." 

They  were  not  to  start  until  six  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. Every  ten  minutes  Sylvandire  glanced  at  the  clock; 
she  would  have  liked  to  turn  the  hands  forward.     Roger 


36  G  SYLVANDIRE. 

smiled  Ijilterl}^  aiul  shook  liis  head;   but  Sylvandire  was 
not  tliiuking  of  liogcr. 

At  tlio  monieiit  of  embarking  came  tlio  permit  from  the 
inspector  of  the  port.  Koger  asked  the  Sardinian  if 
they  would  have  good  weather. 

"  Superb, "  answered  Sylvandire. 

]>ut  the  Sardinian  winked  very  significantly,  as  if  to  say, 
"  Never  fear,  we  shall  have  the  sort  of  weather  we  need. " 

They  entered  a  small  boat,  and,  as  they  were  rowing 
against  the  wind,  they  advanced  very  slowly.  As  a 
result,  night  came  on,  and  they  were  still  only  off  the  lie 
de  I'ommegue.  During  the  passage,  great  clouds  had 
gathered  on  the  horizon,  and  were  rolling  in  like  a  tide ; 
then  they  surrounded  the  moon,  which,  losing  itself  amid 
their  cottony  billows,  seemed  like  an  island  of  fire ;  but, 
little  by  little  they  drcAV  it  within  their  dense  folds  and 
extinguished  its  light. 

The  sea  itself  was  threatening,  and  dashed  noisily 
against  the  rocks  and  the  shore. 

Through  the  darkness,  long  streaks  of  phosphorescent 
foam  were  seen  speeding  like  trails  of  fire. 

"  Hon  Dieu  !  "  cried  Sylvandire,  "  it  seems  to  mo  that 
we  are  going  to  have  a  storm." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  the  weather,  my  dear  host, " 
inquired  Roger  of  the  Sardinian. 

"  Fine  weather  for  feezing !  fine  weather  for  feezing  !  " 
answered  the  latter,  with  a  mocking  look  which  Sylvan- 
dire caught,   and  which  frightened  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  monsieur  ?  "  she  asked,  shrink- 
ing back  against  Roger. 

Roger  shuddered  at  the  touch  of  this  woman  whom  he 
had  loved  so  well,  and  whom  perhaps  he  still  loved. 

Mechanically  he  drew  away. 

"  I  am  afraid, "  said  Sylvandire. 


A   CHAEMING   JOURNEY   TO   PROVENCE.  367 

Hogor  did  not  speak,  and  he  let  his  head  fall  into 
his  two  hands. 

The  Sardinian  at  that  moment  lighted  a  torch,  and, 
rising,  he  waved  it  for  some  time  in  tlie  air,  and  then  he 
extinguished  it. 

Tlie  wind  moaned  in  melancholy  gusts;  it  sounded 
like  the  wailing  of  human  souls. 

Suddenly,  a  flash  illumined  the  heavens,  and  by  its 
light  the  tartan  was  seen  tacking  about,  only  five  hundred 
feet  away. 

Presently,  they  descried  something  advancing  through 
the  gloom ;    it  was  a  yawl  manned  b}'  five  men. 

Two  men  were  rowing;  two  men  were  standing  in  the 
bow;   the  fifth  was  sitting  in  the  stern. 

In  the  last,  Sylvandire  recognized  the  captain  of  the 
tartan. 

But  the  face  that  she  had  deemed  so  handsome  the 
day  before,  she  now  thought  stamped  with  a  sinister 
expression. 

"  Come  alongside !  "    shouted  the  captain  in  Italian. 

And  tlie  two  boats  lay  side  by  side. 

"  Moil  Dleic  !  "  exclaimed  Sylvandire,  judging  from 
the  expression  of  the  new-comers'  faces  that  they  had 
nothing  to  do,  as  she  had  supposed,  with  a  pleasure  party, 
"  Mon  Dieuf  what  is  the  matter?  What  are  they  going 
to  do  1  " 

She  had  barely  uttered  these  words  when  both  oars- 
men and  the  two  men  in  front  boarded  their  boat;  and 
while  the  two  oarsmen  seized,  or  pretended  to  seize, 
Roger,  the  others  took  Sylvandire  in  their  arms  and  bore 
her  away. 

"Roger!"  she  cried,  "  Eoger !  help!  help!  save  me, 
"Roger!   save  me,  save  your  Sylvandire!" 

Instinctively  and  mechanically  Eoger  sprang  up;   but 


368  SYLVANDIRE. 

the  two  men  held  him  fast.  True,  had  Roger  wished,  he 
could  have  taken  one  in  each  hand  and  hurled  both 
together  into  the  sea. 

Mean wl die,  white  with  terror,  Sylvandire  was  taken 
from  the  boat  into  the  yawl. 

"Roger,  Roger!"  she  essayed  to  cry  once  more. 
"Roger,   help!     I  am  dying!" 

And  she  lost  consciousness. 

As  Sylvandire's  voice  died  away  in  its  last  appeal, 
Roger  was  forced  to  recall  all  the  hardships  that  he  had 
endured,  all  the  dishonor  that  had  been  heaped  upon 
him,  all  the  shame  that  he  had  suffered,  to  refrain  from 
leaping  into  the  yawl  and  snatching  her  from  the  hands 
of  those  men. 

He  lifted  his  head,  and  he  let  it  fall  again  between  his 
hands. 

"  Push  off!  "  cried  the  Sardinian. 

The  captain  took  Sylvandire  from  the  arms  of  the 
men  that  had  kidnapped  her,  the  oarsmen  sprang  to  their 
oars,  and  the  yawl  moved  swiftly  away. 

"  Addio,  2>adrone  !  "  shouted  the  captain. 

"  Addio  I "  returned  the  trader,  with  the  malicious 
little  laugh  peculiar  to  him. 

Roger  sent  a  long  look  after  Sylvandire.  He  could  still 
see  her  white  dress  shining  out  in  the  night;  and,  as 
men  and  yawl  were  already  lost  to  sight  in  the  darkness, 
one  might  have  fancied  it  a  ghost  gliding  over  the  surface 
of  the  sea. 

But,  in  a  few  moments,  it,  too,  had  disappeared  in  the 
fog,  and  nothing  more  could  be  seen. 

The  old  man  immediately  seized  the  oars  and  began  to 
row  away  from  the  yawl,  and  in  the  direction  of  the 
land,  with  a  sturdiness  that  one  would  never  have  looked 
for  in  his  thin  and  debilitated  frame. 


A   CHARMING   JOURNEY   TO   TROVENCE.  309 

"  Well, "  he  said  to  Roger,  after  almost  ten  minutes  of 
silence,  and  easing  up  the  movement  of  his  oars,  "  well, 
now  you  are  free,  monsou  le  sevalier.  Have  matters 
gone  as  you  wished,  and  are  you  satisfied  with  us?  " 

"  Yes, "  replied  Roger,  gloomily,  "  yes,  I  am  free, 
thanks  to  a  crime!  " 

"  Bah  !  a  crime  !  "  repeated  the  old  man ;  "  you  need 
not  look  at  it  so.  It  is  a  joke,  that  is  all.  Your  lady  is 
going  straight  to  Tunis.  The  captain  has  orders  from  an 
Indian  prince  Avho  wishes  a  French  wife.  You  were  tired 
of  yours ;  now  both  are  suited. " 

Roger  took  a  last  look  at  the  horizon  and  saw  indeed, 
in  a  field  of  moonlight,  the  tartan  speeding  away  into  the 
Avhite  fog  in  the  direction  of  Tunis. 

"  Come, "  said  the  old  man,  "  we  must  think  of  our- 
selves now,  for  we  are  nearing  land.  Rend  your  clothes 
quickly,  wet  yourself  from  head  to  foot  in  the  sea-water, 
and  Ave  must  break  a  bench  or  two  of  the  boat." 

With  respect  to  himself,  Roger  silently  executed 
these  orders,  and,  aided  by  the  Avind  Avhich  became  more 
and  more  threatening,  they  arrived  in  port  at  about  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

As  soon  as  the  Sardinian  came  in  sight  of  the  Round 
ToAver,  he  set  up  such  a  clamor  of  sobs  and  groans  and 
A'^ociferations  that  Roger  Avas  aroused  from  a  horrible 
trance  into  Avhich  he  had  fallen. 

"Opovero!  o povero  marito !  "  he  cried.  "  OJiime! 
oliime !  " 

These  ejaculations,  Avith  all  their  changes  rung  in  a 
variety  of  tongues,  brought  out  the  custom-house  officials 
and  their  body  of  guards,  Avith  here  and  there  a  scatter- 
ing of  belated  citizens. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  shouted  the  chief  of  the 
excise-men. 

24 


370  SYLVANDIKE. 

"  The  matter!  You  can  ask  wliat  is  the  matter!  Ahf 
che  schiagure,  such  a  beautiful  woman  I  Oh !  die 
'peccato  !  " 

And,  all  the  while  the  old  man  was  venting  his  unin- 
telligible cries,  the  bark  continued  to  advance. 

"But  tell  us  what  has  happened!"  cried  the  by- 
standers, 

Tlien,  while  landing,  the  old  man  declared  tlmt  just  as 
they  had  reached  the  tartan  where  Roger,  Sylvandire  and 
himself  were  about  to  join  a  fishing  party,  a  boat  caught 
by  a  big  wave  had  crashed  into  them,  breaking  the 
rudder  and  a  bench,  and  the  shock  was  so  violent  that 
Madame  d'Anguilliera  who  was  standing,  had  been  pre- 
cipitated into  the  sea. 

The  old  man  went  on  to  say  that  Roger  had  immedi- 
ately jumped  after  his  wife,  but  in  vain.  The  sea  was 
heavy,  the  night  was  black.  The  unfortunate  Sylvan- 
dire  had  been  seen  no  more. 

And  you  should  have  seen  the  Sardinian's  frantic  ges- 
ticulation, his  mad  pantomime!  You  should  have  heard 
him  embellish  his  recital  with  all  tlie  amplifications  of 
Italian  rhetoric ! 

Six  times  Roger  had  dived.  The  Sardinian  had 
endeavored  to  hold  him  back  by  his  coat-skirt,  but  in 
vain;  finally,  when  he  was  about  to  go  down  the  seventh 
time,  he  had  seized  him  round  the  waist,  had  mastered 
him  and  held  him  by  main  force,  assuring  him  that  his 
wife  had  been  picked  up  by  the  other  boat.  At  last 
Roger  had  fainted  away  and  he  himself,  poor  old  man, 
had  meanwhile  brought  the  skiff  into  port.  As  for  the 
men  in  the  yawl,  they  had  not  been  seen  again  nor  did 
he  know  what  people  they  were,  the  violence  of  the 
waves  having  instantly  swept  them  out  of  sight. 

Monsieur  d'Anguilhem  was   pitied;  some  of   the  by* 


A   CHARMING   JOURNEY   TO    PROVENCE.  371 

stauders,  more  sympathetic  than  others,  shed  tears.  He 
stood  speechless,  downcast,  motionless.  His  dejection 
was  taken  for  despair  bordering  on  madness,  and  their 
interest  in  him  was  augmented  by  his  forlorn  attitude. 
Had  he  been  poor,  he  would  have  been  overwhelmed 
witli  alms,  the  circumstances  were  so  evident,  his  grief 
so  real. 

Upon  returning  to  his  hotel,  Roger  shut  himself  up. 
His  patron  escorted  him  back,  and  narrated  to  every  one 
the  night's  sad  accident.  Roger  had  given  orders  that  he 
should  be  left  alone  with  his  grief ;  and  so  no  one  entered 
his  room  except  the  Sardinian  trader,  who  came  the  next 
morning  at  ten  o'clock  to  learn  how  the  bereaved  husband 
had  passed  the  night. 

Then  each  looked  to  the  bolting  of  the  door,  and  Roger 
counted  out  five  hundred  pistoles  to  the  Sardinian ;  in 
exchange  for  which,  the  latter  presented  him  an  official 
report  signed  by  four  known  citizens  of  the  place,  setting 
forth  in  minutest  detail  the  nocturnal  misadventure 
which  had  caused  Madame  d'Anguilhem's  death. 

The  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  despatched  this  official 
report  to  Maitre  Bouteau,  together  with  a  letter  full  of 
chastened  reflections. 

He  also  announced  the  loss  of  his  well-beloved  wife  to 
the  Marquis  de  Crette,  d'Herbigny,  Clos-Renaud,  and 
Chastellux. 

Then  he  started  for  Anguilhem,  where  he  arrived 
twelve  days  after  Sylvandire's  embarkment  for  Tunis. 

Now,  let  us  frankly  avow  a  fact  which  our  readers 
have  undoubtedly  already  guessed. 

The  Chevalier  Roger  Tancrede  d'Anguilhem  had 
purely  and  simply  sold  his  wife  to  a  Tunisian  corsair, 
whose  agent  in  France  was  the  Sardinian  broker. 

It  was  not  badly  planned  for  a  provincial. 


172  SYLVANDIEE. 


XXVII. 

HOW  TTIE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM  LEARNED  THAT 
HIS  FATHER  HAD  NOT  DELIVERED  TO  MADEMOI- 
SELLE DE  BEUZERIE  THE  LETTER  RESTORING  HER 
FREEDOM,   AND    WHAT   CAME    OF    IT. 

The  Baron  d'Anguilhem,  it  will  readily  be  understood, 
"with  his  mingled  love  and  respect  for  the  chateau  of  his 
fathers,  had  not  experienced  such  a  change  of  fortune 
without  thought  of  affecting  a  few  changes  for  the  better 
in  his  estate.  The  marriage  over,  his  affairs  with  Roger 
settled,  back  at  Anguilhem,  in  short,  he  had  set  about 
the  great  work  that  had  so  long  engaged  his  mind,  and 
which  want  of  funds  alone  had  kept  him  from  undertaking. 

The  first  of  these  improvements  had  been  a  grand  av- 
enue of  sycamores,  which  he  had  laid  out  in  front  of  his 
house,  and  which  in  these  two  years  and  a  half  had  already 
become  very  handsome;  moreover,  between  the  trees  had 
been  set  a  hedge  of  elder  and  hazel.  At  the  end  of  the 
avenue,  which  was  nearly  an  eighth  of  a  league  in  length, 
was  seen  to  rise  the  manor  of  Anguilhem,  enlarged  by  a 
story,  which  was  itself  surmounted  by  a  belvedere  pavil- 
ion, a  fashion  that  was  beginning  to  be  introduced,  even 
in  the  environs  of  Loches. 

Needless  to  say,  in  this  architectural  renovation,  which 
lent  the  house  a  lordly  little  air  that  was  delightful  to 
behold,  the  famous  tower  of  La  Guerite  had  been  scrupu- 
lously respected. 

Then,  having  enlarged  his  house,  the  baron  bethought 
himself  of  extending  his  domains.     He  bought  the  famous 


THE  CIIEVALIEK  FINDS  IIIS  LETTER  UNDELIVERED.   373 

marsh,  two  leagues  in  extent,  which  offered  nothing  but 
fine  snipe  and  duck  hunting  for  winter,  but  wliich  gave 
the  estate  the  same  stretch  that  the  old  barony  had  pos- 
sessed ;  then,  one  after  anotlier,  he  had  bought  up  all  the 
little  woodlands  that  had  so  long  been  objects  of  covetous- 
ness  with  him,  so  that  the  baron  was  now  able  to  speak 
of  my  woods,  my  marshes,  my  meadows,  —  a  privilege 
which,  to  do  him  justice,  he  did  not  abuse. 

Finally,  dependents  were  added  in  proportion  to  the 
estate. 

He  had  two  farmers  instead  of  one,  three  horses  were 
in  his  stable,  and  among  them  figured  Christopher,  whom 
he  had  brought  back  with  him  from  Paris,  and  who,  like 
tlie  old  soldiers  that  fought  at  Steinkerke  and  Bergen-op- 
Zoom,  was  looked  upon  as  a  pensioner ;  then,  besides  the 
two  women,  Mesdemoiselles  Marie  and  Gothon,  and  the 
gamekeeper,  Lajeunesse,  he  had  two  additional  men 
servants. 

Nor  have  we  made  mention  of  the  Abbe  Dubuquoi, 
who,  no  longer  needed  as  a  tutor,  was  elevated  to  the 
rank  of  librarian,  and  who  spent  his  time  among  the 
booksellers  of  Loches,  extolling  tlie  two  hundred  and 
forty  ill-sorted  volumes  that  formed  the  utmost  extent 
of  his  empire. 

Thanks  to  this  establishment,  beneath,  however,  rather 
than  above  his  means,  the  Baron  d'Anguilhem  was  con- 
sidered the  richest  landholder  of  the  neighborhood. 

The  three  hundred  thousand  livres  which  he  had  re- 
tained out  of  Monsieur  de  Bouzenois'  fortune  brought  him 
in,  therefore,  a  million  a  year  in  bows,  and  bows  that 
were  the  most  sought  after  in  the  province. 

As  for  the  baroness,  she  remained  precisely  the  same, 
that  is  to  say,  the  most  perfect  type  of  the  excellent 
wife,  the  excellent  mother.     However,  she  had  added  to 


374  SYLVANDIRE. 

tlie  six  gowns  already  in  her  possession,  the  two  gowns 
that  she  had  had  made  in  Paris;  but,  upon  great  occa- 
sions, she  still  continued  to  make  the  pastry  herself, 
which  she  did,  moreover,  to  perfection,  and  to  dry  with 
her  own  hands  the  handsome  Japanese  plates  that  Roger 
had  wiped  so  carefully. 

We  have  led  back  to  Roger  by  this  route,  because,  in 
the  midst  of  their  changed  fortunes,  the  good  father  and 
the  tender  mother  thought  only  of  the  son  to  whom  they 
owed  it  all.  When  they  were  together,  which  happened 
often,  the  chevalier's  name,  uttered  by  the  one  or  the 
other,  was  very  certain  to  turn  the  conversation  on  the 
topic  of  this  well-beloved  son;  and  yet,  it  must  be  said, 
there  were  moments  when  the  baron  and  the  baroness 
accused  Roger  of  ingratitude. 

This  was  because  Monsieur  and  Madame  d'Anguilhera 
had  known  nothing  of  Roger's  imprisonment.  Crette  had 
rightly  comprehended  that  the  announcement  of  such 
news  would  prostrate  them,  and  since  they,  confined  in 
their  province  and  possessed  of  no  relative  in  Paris,  could 
in  no  manner  assist  their  son's  friends  in  the  steps  they 
were  taking,  he  had  determined  to  spare  them  useless 
grief.  He  had  therefore  written  them  that  the  chevalier, 
having  been  charged  with  a  secret  mission,  had  set  out 
for  Holland,  notifying  them,  in  addition  to  this,  that,  as 
his  place  of  residence  must  be  concealed  from  all,  they 
would  probably  receive  no  letter  from  him  for  a  time, 
owing  to  the  measure  then  recently  adopted  by  the  gov- 
ernment, and  so  happily  continued  even  to  our  own  day, 
of  opening  letters  for  the  very  innocent  purpose  of  know- 
ing what  they  contained.  They  had,  therefore,  had  no 
news  of  Roger  for  fifteen  months,  and  this,  thanks  to 
Crette's  letter,  his  parents  had  clearly  understood;  but 
what  they  had  been  quite  unable  to  make  out,  on  the  other 


THE  CHEVALIER  FINDS  HIS  LETTER  UNDELIVERED.  375 

hand,  was  that  Lochcs  did  not  lie  on  the  shortest  route 
from  Paris  to  The  Hague. 

Upon  his  release  from  prison,  Roger  had  written  to 
Anguilhem;  but,  warned  by  Crette,  he  had  maintained 
liis  parents  in  error.  His  letter,  as  may  be  supposed,  had 
been  welcomed  with  delight.  Yet,  after  so  long  an  al> 
sence,  they  especially  longed  to  see  him.  Invitations  to 
come  and  spend  a  month  at  the  Chateau  d'Anguilhem 
had  then  succeeded  each  other  with  the  unweariedness  of 
maternal  love ;  but,  in  the  midst  of  his  grave  purposes, 
Roger  had  not  had  time  to  attend  to  the  claims  of  his 
good  parents. 

When  starting  for  Marseilles,  Roger  had  at  last  written 
that  lie  was  about  to  make  a  trip  through  Provence,  and 
that  he  would  return  by  way  of  Anguilhem,  where  he 
would  stay  a  month  or  two. 

At  once,  all  Avas  put  in  readiness  at  the  chateau  to  re- 
ceive the  heir  apparent,  to  feast  the  prodigal  son.  Men 
were  set  at  work  tipon  the  finest  room  in  the  house,  and 
more  furniture  was  ordered  from  Loches,  in  order  that 
Madame  d'Anguilhem  should  want  for  nothing  on  her 
arrival. 

Hence,  when  a  chaise  made  its  appearance  at  the  end 
of  the  sycamore  avenue,  advancing  with  a  smartness  of 
pace  that  did  not  bespeak  the  province,  a  shout  rang 
through  the  chateau :  "  The  chevalier !  the  chevalier !  " 
and  all  fell  into  line. 

The  chaise  came  on  at  full  speed.  It  stopped  at  the 
entrance.  The  door  opened,  and  Roger  fell  into  the  arms 
of  his  father  and  mother,  who  wept  tears  of  joy ;  then 
from  their  arms  he  turned  to  those  of  his  old  tutor,  the 
Abbe  Dubuquoi. 

A  few  steps  behind  them  stood  the  servants,  the  old 
drawn  by  their  affection,  and  the  new  by  curiosity. 


376  SYLVANDIRE. 

01(1  and  new  found  the  young  master  a  very  handsome 
lord. 

As  for  Castor,  he  was  barking  from  the  kennel,  and 
bounding  as  if  he  would  break  his  chain. 

After  the  first  excitement,  the  baroness  remembered 
that  one  of  her  children  was  missing.  She  glanced  at 
the  carriage,  and,  seeing  it  empty,  she  cried,  — 

"  And  where  is  Madame  d'Auguilhem  ?  " 

A  vivid  blush  overspread  Koger's  covmtenance,  and  a 
tear  that  was  not  hypocritical  fell  from  his  eye. 

Let  us  hasten  to  say  that  only  one  fell. 

"  I  have  met  with  a  great  misfortune,  mother, "  said 
Koger.  "  I  have  lost  Madame  d'Auguilhem.  But  let 
us  go  in;   I  will  tell  you  about  it." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  convey  to  the  reader  an  idea  oi' 
the  outcry  of  grief  and  amazement  that  met,  in  the  salon, 
the  recital  of  the  catastrophe  at  Marseilles. 

The  baroness  thought  herself  about  to  faint  away  with 
grief,  and  fell  to  repeating  like  Geronte,  — 

"  What  business  had  she  to  be  in  that  vessel  ?  " 

However,  Roger  very  soon  consoled  her,  and,  to 
accomplish  the  great  miracle,  he  had  needed  only  to  take 
his  mother  aside  and  say  to  her  these  few  words,  — 

"  God,  who  knows  all,  mother,  knows  that  Madame 
d'Auguilhem  did  not  make  me  happy,  and,  unfortunately, 
the  world  knows  also  that  she  has  not  always  held  our 
name  in  the  respect  which  was  its  due ;  her  misfortune  is 
therefore  but  a  punishment." 

Forced  to  lie  on  many  points,  on  this  one,  at  least, 
Roger  did  not  lie. 

It  had  been  more  than  three  years  since  Roger  had 
seen  Anguilhem ;  but  his  absence  had  not  been  long 
enough  for  him  to  have  forgotten  anything.  All  its  asso- 
ciations were  still  fresh  in  his  heart,  and  every  one  of 


THE  CHEVALIEE  FINDS  HIS  LETTER  UNDELIVERED.  377 

them  was  connected  with  his  love  for  IMademoisclle  de 
Beuzerie.  Older  memories  he  had  none;  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  he  had  begun  to  live  only  on  the  day  on  which 
he  first  saw  Constance. 

As  we  have  said,  the  baroness  had  made  ready  the 
finest  room  in  the  chateau ;  but  Koger  asked  to  sleep  in 
his  little  room.  It  will  be  remembered  that  it  was  there 
that  the  young  girl,  whom  he  thought  dead,  had  appeared 
to  him,  bidding  him  live.  He  approached  the  picture  of 
Christ,  knelt,  as  he  had  formerly  been  accustomed  to  do, 
and  tried  to  recall  his  childish  prayer;  but,  when  he  had 
prayed  in  those  days,  he  was  young,  pure,  full  of  illusions 
and  of  faith ;  and  above  all  he  had  not  committed  an  act 
that,  take  it  altogether,  strongly  resembled  a  crime. 

Roger  went  to  bed ;  but  he  lay  there  a  long  time  with- 
out going  to  sleep.  At  last,  sleep  came,  and  dreams  with 
sleep ;  the  picture  seemed  to  be  swinging  back  again  as 
in  his  boyish  vision ;  but  this  time,  not  Constance 
appeared,  but  Sylvandire,  who  descended  from  the  ped- 
estal and  came,  cold  and    icy,  and  lay  down  beside  him. 

Three  times  Eoger  awoke,  and  three  times,  on  falling 
asleep  again,  did  he  dream  the  same  dream. 

He  rose  in  the  morning  at  dawn,  went  himself  to  the 
stable  and  saddled  Christopher,  and,  as  he  hoped  to 
drive  away  the  memory  of  Sylvandire  by  one  more 
tender,  he  followed  the  road  to  the  place  where,  on  a 
certain  Easter  night,  he  had  found  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie's 
coach  upset  in  the  marsh,  and  had  returned  in  triumph 
with  Constance  on  this  same  Christopher  who,  after  an 
interval  of  six  years,  was  taking  him  back  to  the  same 
spot. 

Roger  recognized  the  place.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
the  event  had  happened  but  yesterday,  and  that  all  that 
had  happened  since  was  a  dream. 


375  SYLVANDIRE. 

At  breakfast  time,  iu  a  calmer  mood  aiul  a  more  tran- 
quil frame  of  mind,  lloger  returned  to  the  cliiiteau.  The 
reminiscences  of  morning  had  gained  the  better  of  the 
dreams  of  night;   Constance  had  vanquished  Sylvandire. 

During  the  breakfast,  Roger  inquired  after  the  entire 
neighborhood;  but,  as  is  usual  with  people  who  think 
very  much  of  one  person,  of  that  one  he  dared  not  say  a 
word.  He  kept  hoping  that  his  father  or  his  mother 
would  pronounce  the  name  of  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie; 
but  that  name  did  not  leave  their  lips. 

To  tell  the  truth,  however,  Roger's  impatience  was 
not  exempt  from  anxiety.  Every  moment,  among  the 
genealogical  enumerations  of  the  province,  he  was  expect- 
ing to  hear  from  his  father's  mouth  these  fatal  words :  — 

"  By  the  way.  Mademoiselle  Constance  de  Beuzerie  has 
married  Monsieur  de  Croisey, "  —  or  some  other  person. 

But,  to  Roger's  great  surprise,  the  baron  and  the 
baroness  appeared  to  have  a  mutual  understanding,  and 
neither  of  them  mentioned  Constance. 

After  breakfast,  Roger  mounted  Christopher,  who 
moved  off  with  a  very  bad  grace.  He  Avas  beginning  to 
think,  having  recognized  in  the  chevalier  a  few  old  unre- 
linquished traits,  that  his  love-chases  were  about  to  begin 
anew.  Now,  Christopher  had  grown  older  as  well  as  the 
other  people  in  this  story.  Christopher,  in  short,  was 
six  years  older. 

This  time,  Roger  pursued  a  route  that  the  poor  animal 
again  recognized.  It  led  to  La  Chapelle-Saint-Hippolyte, 
whither  Roger  and  Constance  had  fled,  and  whose  good 
cure  had  so  scrupulously  betrayed  them. 

He  hoped  that  the  cure,  on  recognizing  him,  would 
inquire  about  Constance. 

Alas!  the  cure  was  dead,  and  his  place  was  filled  by 
another  cure  sent  from  Lorient.      The  new  pastor  had 


THE  CHEVALIER  FINDS  IIIS  LETTER  UNDELIVERED.   379 

never  known  Constance;  there  was  no  likelihood  then  of 
his  mentioning  Constance. 

As  for  the  new  cure's  housekeeper,  he  had  brouglit  her 
with  him  from  Lorient :  there  was  then  no  chance  of  her 
knowing  more  than  her  master.  Besides,  she  spoke 
nothing  but  low  Breton,  a  language  that  Roger  liad  little 
knowledge  of,  albeit  the  savants  have  since  discovered 
that  it  was  the  ancient  Celtic  tongue. 

Roger  therefore  returned  to  the  chateau  as  ignorant  as 
when  he  went  away. 

The  same  silence  was  maintained  at  dinner.  Roger, 
too,  was  silent  and  preoccupied;  he  ransacked  every 
corner  of  his  brain  for  some  phrase  by  which  he  might 
broach  that  important  topic.  Finally,  after  a  thousand 
circumlocutions  which  brought  him  no  help  from  his 
parents,   he  ventured. 

"  And  —  and  —  you  say  nothing  about  our  ancient  feud 
with  the  Beuzeries,  father,"  he  said,  trying  to  smile. 

"  It  lias  quite  calmed  down,  and  we  are  cruelly 
avenged,"  answered  the  baron. 

"Indeed!  and  how  is  that?"  cried  Roger,  trembling 
in  every  fibre  at  the  thouglit  that  perhaps  Constance  was 
dead  or  unhappily  married. 

"  Think  of  it, "  replied  the  baron,  the  baroness  mean- 
while regarding  her  son  uneasily,  "  think  of  it,  Constance 
is  not  married;  she  is  still  single." 

Roger  shook  like  a  leaf.  He  reddened  and  grew  pale 
by  turns.  He  essayed  to  rise  from  his  arm-chair  and  fell 
back  into  his  place.  Then  tears  came  to  his  eyes,  and 
with  a  deep  sigli  he  let  his  head  sink  upon  his  breast. 

"  Yes, "  said  the  baroness,  "  she  has  been  in  retirement 
now  almost  a  year  at  the  convent  in  Loches,  and  it  is  not 
quite  certain  that,  in  spite  of  her  parents'  opposition,  she 
will  not  take  the  veil." 


380  SYLVANDIRE. 

Now,  when  Roger  tlioiight  tliat  he  had  lost  C6nstance, 
he  had  wished  to  join  the  Jesuits.  So,  when  Constance 
lost  Roger,  slie  had  desired  to  become  a  nun. 

God,  then,  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  true  love. 

"Unmarried,"  thought  Roger;  "unmarried,  and  lov- 
ing me,   doubtless,   all  the  time!  " 

"  She,  who  was  so  proud, "  said  the  baron,  ignorant  of 
what  was  passing  in  his  son's  mind. 

"  You  mean, "  corrected  tlie  baroness,  "whose  parents 
were  so  proud;  as  for  Constance,  God  knows  that  she  was 
a  dear,  sweet  girl,  and  I  loved  her  as  if  I  had  been  her 
mother." 

Roger  thanked  the  baroness  with  a  look. 

"  And  —  and  what  did  she  say  of  my  marriage  ?  "  he 
hesitatingly  continued. 

"  1'  faith,  I  know  nothing  about  it, "  replied  the  baron 
with  a  slightly  embarrassed  air,  "  we  have  not  seen  the 
Beuzeries  since  your  marriage." 

The  conversation  was  dropped  there ;  but  Roger  grew 
more  thoughtful  than  ever,  and  he  rose  from  the  table 
without  having  added  another  word. 

After  dinner,  Roger  took  his  gun,  unchained  Castor, 
whose  joy  at  going  out  with  his  old  master  restored  for 
the  moment  all  his  ancient  vigor,  and  he  resumed  his 
walks  of  other  days  in  the  direction  of  the  warren ;  but 
in  three  years  how  many  days  have  rolled  away,  and  with 
the  days,  how  many  events !  At  every  step  of  the  way 
he  was  confronted  by  regret  or  remorse;  behind  every 
bush  he  dreaded  to  see  Sylvandire  and  grieved  tliat  he 
did  not  see  Constance. 

Roger's  homecoming,  however,  was  feted  by  all  the 
country-side ;  the  depression  occasioned  by  the  death  of 
the  young  baroness  was  not  of  long  duration.  Very  few 
had  known  her. 


THE  CIIEVALIEK  FIXDS  HIS  LETTER  UNDELIVERED.  381 

Then  there  was  another  reason  why  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  the  accident  recounted  by  Roger  to  his  mother, 
and  by  his  mother  imparted  to  every  one  else,  sliould 
make  so  brief  an  impression :  as  a  widower,  Roger  was  a 
marriageable  man;  Roger  was  twenty-two  years  old; 
Roger  was  handsomer  than  he  had  ever  been,  even  in  the 
days  when  he  had  been  known  as  "  handsome  Roger  "  or 
"  handsome  Tancrede ;  "  in  short,  Roger  possessed,  not 
counting  what  would  come  to  him  at  the  death  of  his 
parents,  that  is,  not  counting  his  expectations,  as  they 
say  in  that  infamous  slang  which  is  called  the  language 
of  business  men,  Roger,  we  say,  possessed  in  liis  own 
right  at  the  time  the  pretty  income  of  fifty  thousand 
livres.  * 

Hence  every  mother  began,  little  by  little,  to  resume 
her  cherished  idea  of  a  match  between  Roger  and  her 
daughter. 

Roger  was  the  hero,  therefore,  of  the  chase,  of  balls 
and  of  fStes,  but,  alas !  he  was  a  very  melancholy  hero. 
Yet,  at  these  gatherings  he  sometimes  saw  a  face  still 
more  melancholy  than  his  own:  it  was  the  Vicomte  de 
Beuzerie's.  Roger  avoided  him,  for  the  sight  of  that  old 
man  whose  obstinate  pride  had  been  the  chief  cause  of 
his  sorrows,  hurt  him  grievously,  summoning  up  as  it  did 
a  horde  of  bitter  memories. 

One  day,  when  hunting,  he  met  the  viscount  near  the 
very  warren  where,  almost  three  years  before  they  had  so 
violently  quarrelled,  and  where,  later,  when  setting  out 
full  of  hopes  and  illusions,  Roger  had  taken  leave  of 
Constance. 

Monsieur  de  Beuzerie,  who  had  at  first  crossed  a 
clover-patch  in  order  to  avoid  a  meeting  with  the  che- 
valier, changed  his  mind,  and,  going  directly  up  to  him, 
he  said,  — 


382  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem,  kindly  tell  mc  yourself,  that 
I  may  have  it  from  your  own  mouth,  whether  or  not  you 
are  married." 

"  I  am  a  widower,  monsieur, "  replied  Koger,  tremhling, 

"Then  come  with  me,  monsieur,"  rejoined  the  vis- 
count, "  and  you  will  save  my  family  from  despair.  My 
daughter  has  gone  into  retirement  at  the  Conception,  she 
■will  not  listen  to  us ;  she  insists  that  we  have  deceived 
her,  that  you  are  still  single,  that  you  have  not  released 
her  from  her  promise,  in  short,  that  she  can  give  herself 
only  to  you  or  to  God ;  and  then,  too,  perhaps  she  has 
gone  mad,  for  her  mother  and  I  are  unable  to  account  for 
her  behavior  during  these  last  two  years." 

Roger  dropped  his  gun  and  stared  at  the  baron  like  a 
man  about  to  faint. 

"  Alas !  alas  !  "  exclaimed  tlie  old  man,  moved  even  to 
tears,  "  all  has  been  visited  upon  our  own  heads,  Mon- 
sieur d'Anguilhem,  and  we  are  truly  very  unhappy." 

Roger  felt  that  his  knees  were  giving  way  beneath 
him. 

"  Oh  !  monsieur  le  vicomte, "  cried  he,  "  forgive  me, 
forgive  Constance.  But  I  think  I  catcli  a  glimpse  of  the 
truth;  before  going  with  you,  permit  me  to  return  to 
Anguilhem.  I  need  to  ask  a  word  of  explanation  from 
my  father;  after  that,  I  am  entirely  at  your  service.  At 
what  hour  to-morrow  do  you  desire  to  see  me  at 
Beuzerie  1  " 

"  Wait  for  me,  monsieur  le  chevalier, "  answered  the 
viscount,  "  and  to-morrow  in  passing  I  will  call  for 
you." 

"  I  will  wait  for  you. " 

"  But,  consider,  this  is  no  idle  engagement.  Monsieur 
d'Anguilhem.  I  count  upon  you ;  I  may  count  upon  you, 
may  I  not  1  "  he  continued  with  kindly  insistence,  for  he 


THE  CIIEVALIEE  FINDS  HIS  LETTER  UNDELIVERED.  383 

(lid  not  know  whether  the  old  insult  that  he  had  inflicted 
upon  Roger  were  not  still  rankling  in  his  young  neighbor's 
heart. 

Roger  made  him  a  sign  with  both  head  and  hand  at 
the  same  time,  and  immediately  set  off  along  the  road  to 
Anguilhem,  However,  after  he  had  gone  a  hundred 
paces,  he  turned  and  saw  that  the  old  man  was  sitting 
down,  motionless,  and  with  bowed  head,  like  a  statue  of 
Resignation. 

Two  hours  later,  Roger  had  reached  Anguilhem, 

"  Father,"  said  Roger  to  the  baron  who  was  picking 
some  apricots  in  the  orchard,  "  father,  did  you  not,  then, 
deliver  to  Mademoiselle  de  Beuzerie  the  letter  announcing 
my  marriage,  which  I  begged  you  to  hand  to  her  1  " 

Monsieur  d' Anguilhem,  thus  taken  unawares,  hesi- 
tated a  moment  in  embarrassment. 

This  confusion  on  the  part  of  his  father  whom  he  pro- 
foundly respected  seemed  to  Roger  like  a  grievous 
reproach.  Hence,  instantly  seizing  the  baron's  hands 
with  his  own,   he  cried,  — 

"  Oh !  my  dear  father,  be  assured  that  whatever  you 
have  done  was  done  for  the  best." 

"  Well,  no,  my  dear  Roger, "  said  the  baron,  "  I  did 
not  deliver  it.  You  had  not  told  me  what  the  letter  con- 
tained, and  I  must  confess  that,  considering  the  delicacy 
of  our  position,  I  feared  the  unfortunate  letter  might  do 
more  harm  than  good." 

"  And  the  letter  1  " 

"  It  is  still  upstairs." 

And  the  baron,  followed  by  Roger,  returned  to  the 
chateau,  ascended  to  his  room,  drew  from  an  oaken 
cabinet,  where  it  had  grown  yellow,  the  fatal  letter, 
elaborately  sealed,   and  handed  it  to  his  son. 

"  Oh !  I   comprehend   it  all,   now, "  cried   Roger ;  "  I 


384  SYLVANDIEE. 

had  told  her  to  believe  only  my  own  words,  spoken  or 
written.  She  would  believe  nothing  that  did  not  come 
from  me,  she  has  all  this  time  been  waiting  for  me  to 
make  good  my  word;  and  she  would  have  waited  until 
death !     Oh !   noble  being,   how  she  loved  me  !  " 

Roger  took  tlie  letter  and  went  to  his  room,  in  order 
that,  quite  undisturbed,  he  miglit  reflect  upon  past 
events,   and  perhaps  also  upon  events  to  come. 


THE  CHEVALIEK  AND  CONSTANCE  AGAIN  IN  LOVE.     385 


XXVIII. 

HCW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'anGUILHEM  AND  MADEMOI- 
SELLE CONSTANCE  DE  BEUZERIE  FIND  TBEMSELA'ES 
MORE  IN  LOVE  THAN  EVER,  AND  SOME  OF  THE 
PERPLEXITIES  INTO  WHICH  ROGER  IS  THEREBY 
PLUNGED. 

Roger  passed  a  very  restless  night.  Again,  in  his 
dreams,  he  saw  the  picture  turn,  and  this  time  it  was 
Constance  who  appeared ;  but,  just  as  she  was  stepping 
down  and  approaching  his  bed,  Sylvandire,  Avith  threat- 
ening attitude,  rose  between  her  and  Roger,  and,  try 
as  the  unhappy  young  people  might,  they  were  ever 
unable  to  come  near  each  other. 

However  small  Roger's  faith  in  dreams  might  be, 
this  Avas  so  like  the  actual  state  of  affairs,  and  so  mar- 
vellously prophetic  that  it  left  on  his  mind  an  impres- 
sion not  yet  dissipated  when,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  arrived. 

The  old  gentleman  was  on  horseback.  Roger  at  once 
had  Christopher  saddled;  for,  since  the  day  before,  he 
had  guessed  that  he  was  to  accompany  the  viscount  to 
the  convent  at  Loches.  Together  they  set  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  town. 

At  times,  as  they  rode  along,  the  thought  that  he 
was  to  see  Constance  again  would  cause  the  chevalier 
such  acute  anguish  of  heart  that  he  would  suddenly  rein 
in  his  horse  and  grow  so  pale  as  to  look  as  if  he  were 
about   to   fall.     Then    Monsieur    de    Beuzerie    would 

25 


386  SYLVANDIKE. 

himself  stop  and  regard  him  anxiously;  but  Roger 
would  at  onco  summon  all  his  strength  and  proceed 
again. 

Soon  Loches  came  in  sight.  Roger  was  conscious 
of  nothing  hut  that,  amid  that  mass  of  houses,  was  a 
house  that  enclosed  Constance.  Roger  could  think  of 
nothing  save  that,  in  half  an  hour,  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  in  five  minutes,  he  would  he  standing  face  to  face 
with  her  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  nearly  three  years, 
and  from  whom,  during  those  three  years,  he  had 
tliought  himself  eternally  separated. 

They  entered  the  town;  they  entered  the  street. 
They  knocked  at  the  convent  door.  The  attendant 
opened  it.  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  asked  to  see  his 
daughter,  and  the  attendant  answered  in  the  calmest  of 
accents,  — 

"Very  well,  monsieur  le  vicomte.  Go  into  the 
parlor,  and  she  will  be  summoned." 

The  reply  was  very  simple  and  very  natural ,  yet  it 
caused  Roger  to  shiver.  He  was  expecting  to  be  told 
that  Constance  was  no  longer  in  the  convent,  or  per- 
haps, as  at  Chinon,  that  Constance  was  dead. 

They  entered.  A  nun  showed  Roger  and  the  vis- 
count into  the  parlor,  then  left  them  alone. 

The  viscount  and  Roger  exchanged  not  a  word  with 
each  other;  but  the  father  drew  near  the  grating,  while 
the  young  man  stood  back,  almost  hidden  in  the  half 
light. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  moments  the  door  opened,  and 
Constance,  dressed  all  in  white,  appeared  and  advanced 
to  the  grating  slowly  and  with  a  foot-fall  that  seemed 
to  make  no  sound. 

She  was  pale  and  wan,  but  more  beautiful,  more 
graceful  than  ever.     One  would  have  said  that  all  that 


THE  CHEVALIER  AND  CONSTANCE  AGAIN  IN  LOVE.  387 

was  earthly  in  her  had  been  consumed  by  the  fire  of 
love,  and  that,  of  the  suffering  woman  of  this  world, 
there  remained  but  a  blessed  angel  ready  to  wing  its 
flight  heavenward. 

But  suddenly,  on  glancing  beyond  her  father,  Con- 
stance's eye  met  Roger's.  She  faltered  and  uttered  a 
loud  cry.  Thinking  her  about  to  fall,  Roger  sprang 
toward  her,  and,  thrusting  his  arms  through  the  grating, 
he  cried,  — 

"  0  Constance,  Constance !  I  know  that  you  are  an 
angel;  but,  perfect  though  you  are,  will  you  ever 
forgive  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  he!  "  exclaimed  Constance.     "  It  is  indeed  he." 

And,  lifting  her  clasped  hands  to  heaven,  with 
upturned  look,  she  said, — 

"0  God,  I  thank  thee.  I  did  well  to  believe.  I 
did  well  to  hope.     He  has  come  back  to  me." 

"But  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  he  was  married," 
said  the  Vicomte  de  Beuzerie,  wishing  to  prove  to  his 
daughter  that  he  had  not  deceived  her. 

"Married!"  repeated  Constance.  "Married!  Roger, 
is  it  true  1  " 

"Alas!"  said  Roger.  "I  was  forced  to  yield  to 
necessity,  and  here  is  the  letter  that  I  wrote  you  at  the 
fatal  date,  and  which  my  father,  inspired  by  God,  I 
believe,   failed  to  deliver." 

"  Then  why  do  you  come  here,  Roger?  " 

"  To  tell  you  that  I  am  —  free,  and  to  thank  you  for 
your  generous  devotion." 

"  Free,  Roger!     Did  you  say  that  you  were  free ?  " 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Roger,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice. 

"Father,"  cried  Constance,  "let  me  leave  this  place! 
0  God,  0  God,  I  who  have  begged  for  death,  wish 
now,  dear  Lord,  to  live.     Roger  is  free!  " 


388  SYLVANDIRE. 

Each  tender  word  from  the  girl's  lips  was  like  a 
dagger-thrust  in  Roger's  heart. 

Ho  turned  to  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie,  and  begged  for 
a  few  moments'  conversation  with  Constance. 

The  old  man  was  so  rejoiced  to  have  his  daughter, 
whom  he  thought  forever  lost,  again  restored,  that  he 
instantly  granted  Roger's  request,  and  even  left  the 
parlor. 

The  door  had  barely  closed  when  Roger  seized 
Constance's  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

"  0  Constance !  "  he  said.  "  I  was  at  the  mercy  of 
an  unconquerable  necessity.  Tell  me,  do  you  truly 
forgive  me  ?  " 

"  I  forgive  you,  and  I  love  you,  Roger,  more  than 
ever."  Then,  suddenly  breaking  off  and  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands,  she  cried,  — 

"  Oh !  wretch  that  I  am !  I  talk  of  my  own  happi- 
ness, Roger,  and  give  not  a  thought  to  the  soul  of  the 
poor  dead  woman  whom  I  wrong,  and  who  perhaps 
curses  me." 

Roger  felt  a  cold  chill  creep  through  his  veins,  and 
he  gave  a  sigh. 

"You  regret  her,  Roger,"  said  Constance;  "for 
undoubtedly  she  was  beautiful,  oh,  more  beautiful  than 
I.  That  is  not  difficult  to  imagine,  especially  now; 
but  oh,  she  did  not  love  you  as  I  love  you.  Of  that  I 
am  very  sure." 

"No,  Constance,"  replied  Roger.  "But  I  ought  at 
least  to  observe  the  proprieties.  A  certain  length  of 
time  is  obligatory  for  mourning." 

"Oh,  yes,  dear,  yes,  of  course.  Oh,  with  hope, 
waiting  is  nothing.  It  is  the  waiting  in  despair  that 
kills.  Now  that  you  have  come  back  to  me  after  three 
years,  I  am  sure  of  you,  Roger." 


THE  CHEVALIER  AND  CONSTANCE  AGAIN  IN  LOVE.    389 

And  she  held  out  her  hand  to  liim  with  the  angelic 
trust  that  made  her,  all  unconsciously,  a  woman  sub- 
lime in  resignation  and  devotion. 

Just  then  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  entered.  The  two 
young  people  regarded  each  other  with  a  smile.  They 
had  said  all  they  had  to  say,  and  yet  it  had  been  three 
years  since  they  had  seen  each  other.  But  so  much  is 
contained  in  the  three  words,  "  I  love  you,"  that  when 
these  have  been  spoken,  all  has  been  said;  and  if  one 
would  hear  something  new,  they  must  be  repeated. 

"  Well,  Constance,  are  you  ready  1  "  said  the  old  man. 

Constance  looked  at  Koger,  as  if  to  ask  once  more 
•whether  it  were  indeed  true  that  she  was  to  leave  the 
convent. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  said  the  chevalier  to  the  Vicomte 
de  Beuzerie.  "Yes,  mademoiselle  consents  to  give  us 
back  all  the  happiness  of  which  absence  from  her  has 
robbed  us." 

Constance  pressed  both  hands  upon  her  heart  and 
drew  a  deep  breath.  Then  her  lovely  eyes  glowed  with 
feeling,  a  sense  of  joy  sent  the  blood  to  her  cheeks,  and 
she  looked  as  radiantly  beautiful  as  an  angel. 

Yet  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  and  his  daughter  could 
not  leave  abruptly.  That  step  would  have  looked 
exceedingly  strange.  Roger,  on  the  other  hand,  could 
not  remain.  He  therefore  saluted  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie 
and  Constance,  whose  hand  he  kissed  a  last  time.  And, 
while  father  and  daughter  Avere  taking  leave  of  the 
superior  and  preparing  for  their  departure,  Roger,  stung 
with  remorse,  the  prey  of  conflicting  emotions,  returned 
alone  to  the  Chateau  d'Anguilhem. 

His  mother  saw  him  pass,  his  face  distorted.  On 
tiptoe  she  followed.  She  listened  at  the  door  of  his 
room  and  heard  him  burst  into  sobs. 


390  SYLVANDIRE. 

Sadly  shaking  her  liead,  like  a  poor  woman  who  has 
some  foreljoding  of  disaster,  without  knowing  what  is 
wrong,  the  dear  dame  returned  to  her  chamber;  and 
because  her  son  was  weeping,  she  wept. 

Soon  tlie  rumor  spread  through  the  whole  province 
that  the  Yicomte  do  Beuzerie  and  the  Chevalier 
d'Anguilhcin  had  together  visited  Mademoiselle  Con- 
stance de  Beuzerie,  and,  as  a  result  of  this  visit,  the 
novice  had  renounced  her  design  of  taking  the  veil, 
and  had  returned  to  her  father's  house. 

In  this  unlooked-for  return  of  the  young  girl  to  more 
mundane  ideals,  all  thought  they  saw  a  ready  solution 
of  the  differences  that  had  formerly  arisen  between  the 
two  families,  and  which  Roger's  marriage  had  caused  to 
spring  up  with  intensified  bitterness. 

Constance  herself  had  not  a  doubt  of  her  future  hap- 
piness. She  had  kept  her  faith  in  Roger  when  absent. 
How,  then,  could  she  bring  herself  to  doubt  him  when, 
after  three  years,  he  had  returned  to  her,  as  fond  as 
ever? 

And,  in  point  of  fact,  surrounded  by  all  the  associa- 
tions of  his  youth,  Roger  had  reverted  to  his  first,  his 
only  love.  Now  that  he  was  again  with  Constance, 
he  well  knew  the  sentiment  with  which  he  had  regarded 
Sylvandire  to  have  been  a  very  material  love,  a  delirium 
of  the  senses,  a  surrender  to  the  spell  of  beauty;  and 
that  love,  never  attaining  an  elevated  plane,  had  always 
been  love  fraught  with  jealousy  and  unrest.  His 
feeling  for  Constance,  —  it  was  happiness. 

But  his  happiness  was  cruelly  troubled  by  the 
memory  of  the  accident  at  Marseilles.  At  times  Roger 
succeeded  in  forgetting  that  terrible  night,  and  then  his 
face  would  lighten  up  with  supreme  joy.  A  smile  of 
ineffable  happiness  would  settle  upon  his  lips.     Then 


THE  CHEVALIER  AND  CONSTANCE  AGAIN  IN  LOVE.     391 

a  sudden  thought  would  cross  his  mind.  Roger  would 
grow  as  pale  as  death,  his  flesh  creep,  and  a  cold 
perspiration  start  from  every  pore. 

The  unhappy  man  always  saw  that  white  fog  on  the 
horizon,  with  the  tartan  fleeing  in  the  direction  of 
Tunis. 

As  we  have  said,  Roger  had  expressed  to  Constance 
the  wish  to  appear  in  mourning  for  a  year,  and  Con- 
stance had  commended  his  observance  of  the  conven- 
tionalities. Roger  had  not  said  a  word  of  marriage. 
But  Constance,  having  remained  faithful  to  Roger  in 
spite  of  his  infidelity,  seeing  Roger  return,  had  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  speak  of  a  union  which  she 
considered  as  long  before  contracted  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Consequently,  when  Roger,  hoping  that  the  distractions 
and  the  tumult  of  the  capital  might  expel  from  his 
mind  the  terrors  by  which  it  was  assailed,  spoke  of  the 
necessity  of  a  journey  to  Paris,  on  the  pretext  of  attend- 
ing to  his  afi'airs,  Constance  raised  no  objection,  and 
merely  asked  when  he  intended  to  return. 

"As  soon  as  I  can  possibly  do  so,"  replied  Roger. 

And,  to  the  confiding  girl,  that  reply  was  sufficient. 

Thereupon  Roger  took  leave  of  the  Chateau  d'Anguil- 
hem,  of  the  baron,  of  the  baroness,  of  the  Abbe 
Dubuquoi,  of  Christopher  and  Castor;  and,  having 
written  to  the  Marquis  de  Crette  that  he  would  be  with 
him  in  eight  days,  he  set  out,  travelling  by  short 
stages. 

But,  after  the  third  day,  Roger  could  not  endure  the 
sluggish  progress.  It  left  him  too  much  time  for 
thought  on  subjects  that  he  wished  to  forget.  He  took 
post-horses,  and  reached  Paris  on  the  fourth  night  after 
his  departure. 

There  was  yet   another  terrible   moment  for  Roger. 


392  SYLVANDIRE. 

It  was  when  lie  entered  liis  hotel,  which  he  had  left  in 
company  with  Sylvandire.  He  scarcely  dared  raise 
his  eyes,  fearing  to  see  a  light  in  his  wife's  apartment, 
and  dreading  to  hear  a  servant  say ,  — 

"  Madame  returned  in  the  absence  of  monsieur  le 
chevalier,  and  begs  that  monsieur  le  chevalier  will 
go  to  her." 

But  the  apartment  was  dark  and  closed,  and  no  voice 
was  raised  to  speak  of  Sylvandire.  Breton  attended  his 
master.  Roger  trembled  in  the  presence  of  this  old 
confidant  of  his  jealousy.  It  seemed  as  if  Breton, 
who  knew  all  his  grievances  against  Sylvandire,  looked 
at  him  in  a  curious  way  which  said,  — 

"  Well,  now  we  have  taken  our  revenge !  " 

But  a  more  trying  ordeal  than  any  of  these  was  one 
that  awaited  Roger  as  he  presented  himself  at  Monsieur 
Bouteau's.  The  father-in-law's  eye  was  searching. 
One  is  not  a  judge  for  nothing;  but  Roger  had  mar- 
shalled all  his  reserves  for  this  occasion,  and  he  bore 
it  without  flinching.  The  president  did  not  love 
his  daughter,  whose  character  he  had  been  able  duly  to 
estimate  in  the  nineteen  years  during  Avhich  he  had 
watched  over  her;  but  to  question  had  become  a  habit 
with  him,  and  he  would  not  have  been  averse  to  a 
petty  criminal  process,  even  in  his  own  family.  How- 
ever, this  time,  he  discovered  no  grounds.  For  why 
should  he  set  about  sounding  the  depths  of  that  shrewd 
Roger,  a  man  who,  moreover,  renounced  his  right  of 
inheritance  1 

It  followed  that  Maitre  Bouteau  mourned  with 
Roger  the  loss  that  both  had  sustained,  but  in  such 
moderation  that  he  continued  to  dine  occasionally  with 
his  son-in-law,  and  they  became  greater  friends  than 
ever.     It  was  the  admiration  of  everybody  that  Roger's 


THE  CHEVALIEK  AND  CONSTANCE  AGAIN  IN  LOVE.    393 

affection,  even  after  his  wife's  death,  still  extended  to 
her  family. 

The  intimacy  existed  three  months,  to  the  great 
edification  of  those  in  a  position  to  appreciate  it.  But, 
one  fine  morning,  while  heatedly  reproving  a  lawyer 
who  had  been  too  bold  of  speech,  Maitre  Bouteau,  a 
man  of  an  irascible  temperament,  and  possessed  of  a 
short,  thick  neck,  fell  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy,  and  died 
without  recovering  consciousness,  an  event  that  was  not 
unalloyed  with  pleasure  for  Koger,  nor  one  that  would 
have  displeased  the  best  son-in-law  in  the  world,  who, 
had  he  been  placed  but  twenty-four  hours  in  Roger's 
position,  would  have  understood  how  the  worthiest 
of  fathers-in-law  can  sometimes  become  an  irksome 
load. 

At  the  first  news  of  this  accident,  the  housekeeper, 
who  had  been  with  Maitre  Bouteau  for  fifteen  years, 
hastened  to  summon  Eoger.  Eoger  repaired  to  the 
home  of  his  father-in-law,  but,  as  we  have  said,  the 
honored   president    did   not  regain  consciousness. 

The  will  was  opened,  Maitre  Bouteau  left  three 
hundred  thousand  livres  to  his  son-in-law,  five  thousand 
livres  to  Mademoiselle  Fanchon,  his  housekeeper,  and 
one  hundred  thousand  livres  to  be  divided  up  in  pious 
legacies  among  churches  and  hospitals. 

As  to  cash  on  hand,  it  was  out  of  the  question.  Nor 
was  there  found  a  single  stray  sou.  Mademoiselle 
Fanchon  was  a  systematic  woman. 

With  all  the  honors  due  to  his  social  position, 
Maitre  Bouteau  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  of  Pere- 
la-Chaise,  which  was  beginning  to  be  the  fashionable 
cemetery  of  the  day. 

The  hundred  thousand  crowns  bequeathed  to  him  by 
his  father-in-law  proved  a  great  embarrassment  to  Koger. 


394  SYLVANDIRE. 

The  money  weigliod  upon  him  singularly.  It  was 
Sylvandire's  inheritance;  but  how  was  he  to  get  the 
money  to  her?  There  was  the  rub!  Besides,  with 
that  amount,  Sylvandire  could  ransom  herself  and  return 
to  France,      Roger  trembled  at  the  thought. 

He  resolved,  nevertheless,  to  hold  that  sum  always 
available  in  bonds  payable  to  the  bearer. 

Let  us  turn  from  Maitre  Bouteau,  of  whom  we  are 
glad  to  be  rid,  to  the  Marquis  de  Crette,  with  whom, 
thank  God,  we  have  not  yet  done. 

If  Maitre  Bouteau  had  had  a  germ  of  suspicion,  in 
Crette  the  germ  had  attained  full  growth.;  but  he  was 
that  rare  combination,  a  courtier  and  a  man  of  delicacy. 
Moreover,  he  loved  Roger  as  he  would  have  loved  a 
brother.  Hence  he  asked  his  friend  no  questions  about 
his  wife;  but,  in  the  course  of  conversation  and  paren- 
thetically,  he  said, — 

"By  the  way,  my  friend,  you  know  I  had  an  old 
account  to  settle  with  Royancourt, " 

"  Yes, "  said  Roger, 

"  Well,  knowing  that  you  must  not  be  implicated,  I 
went  to  look  him  up  at  Utrecht,  and  there  I  publicly 
trod  on  his  toes  in  such  a  fashion  that  I  at  last  got  him 
to  fight." 

"  Well  1  "  demanded  Roger, 

"  I  gave  him  a  pretty  little  sword-thrust  in  the 
abdomen," 

"  You  have  killed  him  then  ?  " 

"No,  not  exactly.  He  is  just  now  in  the  hands  of 
an  excellent  surgeon.  Yet,  as  the  wound  was  serious, 
I  doubt  that  he  will  survive  the  winter.  Do  not  be 
too  grievously  afflicted  if  you  learn  at  any  moment  that 
he  has  passed  from  here  to  the  hereafter. " 

In   fact,    one    morning   they  read    in   the  "  Holland 


THE  CHEVALIER  AND  CONSTANCE  AGAIN  IN  LOVE.    395 

Gazette,"  the  following  notice,  under   the    heading  of 
Amsterdam,  March,   1714:  — 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Royancourt  died  this  morning 
from  the  eifects  of  a  wound  received  while  hunting.  This 
gentleman  came  to  us  eight  months  ago,  charged  with  a 
special  commission  from  His  Most  Christian  Majesty." 

"Come,  come,"  thought  Roger.  "It  looks  as  if 
God  must  be  watching  over  honest  men,  after  all,  since 
He  is  ridding  me  of  all  my  persecutors  one  after 
another.  Indeed,  the  proverb  is  right  that  says,  '  God 
helps  those  who  help  themselves !  '  " 

It  was  Crette  that  showed  Roger  the  death  notice. 

"  Your  prison  debts  are  paid,"  he  remarked  when  the 
chevalier  had  read  the  article  in  question.  "  I  have 
discharged  one,  and  you  have  discharged  —  " 

But  Roger  turned  so  pale  that  Crette  broke  off 
abruptly,  and,  holding  out  his  hand  to  his  friend, 
said,  — 

"Forgive  me,  chevalier.  I  am  not  prying  into  your 
secrets.  But  you  know  that  if  those  secrets  were  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  compromise  you  any  day,  you  will 
find  me  in  the  future  what  you  have  found  me  in  the 
past. " 

Roger  pressed  the  hand  of  the  marquis  and  heaved  a 
great  sigh ;  but  he  made  no  other  response. 

This  caused  the  marquis  to  understand  that  the 
matter  was  very  serious. 

Then  Crette  fell  back  upon  his  usual  advice,  —  dis- 
traction; and,  knowing  no  greater  distraction  than  that 
afforded  by  a  mistress,  Crette  advised  Roger  to  take 
Mademoiselle  Poussette,  were  it  only  for  a  short  time. 
The  matter  would  be  very  simple,  as  she  was  just  then 
solacing  Chastellux,  who,  having  also  suffered  severely 


396  SYLVANDIRE. 

through  his  affections,  had  also  been  in  need  of 
consolation. 

But  Koger  answered  that  his  own  sorrows  were 
incurable. 

Crette  saw  that  he  must  leave  it  all  to  time. 

However,  as  time  wrought  no  change  in  Roger's 
melancholy,  and  as,  on  the  contrary,  it  became  more 
and  more  deep-seated,  Crette  concerted  with  his  friends 
to  procure  him  some  diversion  from  time  to  time,  and 
in  spite  of  himself,  as  it  were;  but  the  diversion 
almost  always  had  a  different  result  from  what  that 
excellent  friend  intended. 

Thus,  one  day  when  d'Herbigny  had  persuaded  Roger 
to  ride  with  him  to  Saint  Cloud,  and  being  convinced 
that  Roger's  decline  proceeded  from  grief  at  the  death 
of  his  wife,  as  a  lady  passed  them  in  an  open  barouche, 
d'Herbigny  remarked,  — 

"  Ah  !  that  lady  looks  like  poor  Sylvandire  !  " 

Then,  as  he  turned  to  observe  the  effect  of  his  sym- 
pathetic words,  he  beheld  Roger  gripping  the  saddle 
with  both  hands,  wild-eyed,  and  as  pale  as  death. 

"  What  a  weakness  he  had  for  that  woman !  "  said 
d'Herbigny  to  himself,  as  he  shook  his  head.  "  Really, 
it  is  of  no  use;  he  will  never  get  over  it." 

And  he  brought  Roger,  more  dead  than  alive,  back 
to  his  hotel. 

On  another  occasion,  when  Roger,  d'Herbigny,  Crette, 
and  Chastellux  had  all  four  dined  together,  Chastellux 
proposed  to  his  friends  that  they  go  to  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise,  of  which  he  was  a  constant  frequenter,  in 
consequence  of  his  connection  with  Mademoiselle 
Poussette.  Crette  and  d'Herbigny  accepted,  in  the 
hope  of  amusing  Roger.  Roger  accepted  without 
knowing  what  was  proposed. 


THE  CHEVALIER  AND  CONSTANCE  AGAIN  IN  LOVE.     397 

"  PhMre,"  which  was  beginning  to  find  favor  with  the 
public,  was  being  played,  and  "  Monsieur  de  Pourceau- 
gnac,"  which  then,  as  now,  was  privileged  to  excite  the 
audience  to  the  highest  pitch  of  hilarity.  Roger,  all  the 
time  plunged  in  reverie,  had  listened  to  "  Phedre  "  with- 
out hearing  it,  yet  he  was  beginning  to  be  somewhat 
diverted  by  the  comedy,  Avhen  they  came  to  the  scene 
where  the  two  lawyers  sing  to  the  unhappy  Limosin 
spouse,  accused  of  having  taken  two  wives:  — 

"  Polygamy  's  a  banging  matter." 

Now  this  scene,  which  threw  the  people  into  spasms 
of  delight,  had  a  wholly  contrary  effect  upon  d'Anguil- 
hem.  He  uttered  several  inarticulate  sounds  which 
his  friends  took  for  laughter.  Then,  throwing  himself 
backward,  he  fell  fainting  into  Crette's  arms. 

They  carried  him  back  to  the  h6tel,  very  ill,  and  all 
through  the  night  he  was  delirious. 

Crette  had  the  forethought  to  send  every  one  away, 
and  he  watched  alone  beside  him. 

On  the  next  day  the  Marquis  de  Crette  seemed 
almost  as  care-ridden  as  his  friend,  who  very  soon 
rallied  from  this  attack,  although  at  the  same  time 
falling  into  a  despondency  that  deepened  day  by  day. 


398  SYLVANDIRE. 


XXIX. 

HOW  THE  PERSIAN  AMBASSADOR,  MEHEMET  RIZA  BEG, 
CAME  TO  PARIS  TO  PRESENT  THE  RESPECTFUL  COM- 
PLIMENTS OF  HIS  SOVEREIGN  TO  LOUIS  XIV.,  AND 
HOW  THE  CHEVALIER  d'ANGUILHEM  WAS  CON- 
STRAINED TO  PAY  A  VISIT  TO  THAT  ILLUSTRIOUS 
PERSONAGE. 

What  rendered  Roger  more  and  more  melancholy  was 
the  fact  that  time  was  passing  with  frightful  rapidity, 
and  that  of  the  year  required  for  mourning  already 
nine  months  were  gone. 

As  we  have  seen,  Roger  had  not,  strictly  speaking, 
made  Constance  any  promise;  but  it  was  evident  that 
Constance  was  in  no  need  of  promises  from  Roger 
to  regard  their  union  as  a  settled  thing.  From  the 
moment  that  Roger  had  gone  to  beg  her  to  withdraw 
from  the  convent  and  she  had  agreed  to  return  to  the 
world,  there  had  been  a  tacit  understanding  that  she 
was  to  become  Roger's  wife.  Besides,  everybody 
thought  so, — the  viscount,  the  viscountess,  the  baron 
and  the  baroness,  the  neighbors,  all,  in  short,  that  had 
known  of  the  old  love  affair  between  Roger  and  Con- 
stance, and  had  heard  the  news  of  their  recent 
engagement. 

Then,  let  us  add,  Roger  himself  loved  Constance 
more  than  he  had  ever  loved  her.  Every  other  day  he 
received  a  letter  from  the  maiden,  and  every  letter  was 
a  new  leaf  from  the  book  of  her  heart,  where  Roger 
read  the  promise  of  inetfable  joy.     The  situation  was  a 


THE   CHEVALIER   VISITS   MEHEMET   RIZA   BEG.      399 

terrible  one.  Fear  held  Roger  back.  Love  urged  him 
on.  His  union  with  Constance  presented  two  faces, 
the  one  happily  smiling,  the  other  deathly  sad. 

Twenty  times  Roger  was  on  the  point  of  setting  out 
for  Anguilhem  to  confess  everything  to  his  father  and 
to  Constance;  but  as  Minerva  restrained  Achilles,  so 
Roger's  good  genius  restrained  him. 

At  last,  urged  on  by  all,  driven  to  his  last  entrench- 
ment, and  at  his  wits'  end  after  another  delay  of  six 
months,  he  pledged  his  word  for  the  beginning  of 
December,  1714.  Then  he  affected  to  fall  ill,  hoping 
to  die;  and  finally,  he  fixed  positively  upon  the  month 
of  February,  1715. 

Any  excuses  sufficed  to  Constance,  who  did  not  even 
question  them.  All  delays  she  had  accepted  with 
saintly  resignation.  In  the  interval,  also,  she  had  lost 
her  mother,  and  she  too  was  wearing  deep  mourning. 

It  had  been  decided  that  the  wedding  should  take 
place  in  Paris,  and  eight  days  before  its  celebration 
the  baron  and  the  baroness  established  themselves  in 
the  Hotel  d' Anguilhem,  while  the  Vicomte  de  Beuzerie 
and  his  daughter  stayed  at  a  neighboring  house,  where 
Roger  had  provided  for  their  entertainment. 

At  the  Hotel  d' Anguilhem  all  had  been  changed: 
furniture,  hangings,  pictures,  everything,  even  to  the 
mirrors.  Roger  would  have  regarded  it  as  profanation 
that  Constance  should  make  use  of  any  article  whatever 
that  might  have  belonged  to  Sylvandire. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Roger  had  sent  his 
mother  her  share  of  the  diamonds  left  by  Monsieur 
de  Bouzenois.  These  were  the  baroness'  wedding 
present  to  her  daughter-in-law. 

Now,  the  approaching  marriage  of  the  Chevalier 
d' Anguilhem    made   a   great   stir    in    society.     People 


400  SYLVANDIRE. 

talked  only  of  that  and  of  the  arrival  of  the  Persian 
ambassador,  Mehemet  Riza  Beg,  who  had,  as  we  have 
said,  arrived  at  the  capital,  as  the  bearer  of  gifts  from 
his  sovereign  to  Louis  XIV.  The  ladies  called  on  the 
ambassador  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  gentlemen  in  the 
morning. 

One  word  about  this  singular  personage,  who,  al- 
though introduced  in  our  story  a  little  later  on,  never- 
theless requires  especial  mention, 

Mehemet  Riza  Beg,  as  we  have  said,  was  the  per- 
sonage who,  for  the  time  being,  divided  popular  atten- 
tion with  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem.  However,  with 
the  modesty  of  which  in  the  course  of  this  most  vera- 
cious history  we  have  given  so  many  proofs,  we  must 
admit  that  only  a  certain  circle  of  Parisian  society  was 
interested  in  Roger,  while  Mehemet  Riza  Beg  was  the 
theme  of  all  France. 

In  fact,  since  the  year  807,  when  Abdallah  was 
despatched  on  an  embassy  by  Haroun,  the  ruler  of 
Persia,  to  Charlemagne,  the  Emperor  of  the  West,  and 
who  brought  from  his  sovereign  a  live  elephant,  which 
was  regarded  as  a  great  wonder,  our  succeeding  sover- 
eigns had  never  received  any  direct  communication 
from  the  land  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights  "  until  about 
the  middle  of  the  year  1714,  when  the  news  was  spread 
that  Hussein,  the  Shah  of  Persia,  grandson  of  the  great 
Sephi,  and  son  of  the  Sultan  Soliman,  having  heard 
the  virtues  of  the  great  King  Louis  XIV. ,  extolled 
even  in  Ispahan,  his  capital,  had  resolved  to  despatch 
an  ambassador  to  him  with  presents.  This  news,  as 
yet  unconfirmed,  had  seemed  singularly  to  flatter  the 
pride  of  the  conqueror  of  Flanders;  and  as  if  Providence 
was  willing  to  offer  an  indemnity  to  his  vanity  at  the 
moment  of  reminding  him  of  the  nothingness  of  human 


THE    CHEVALIER   VISITS   MEHEMET    RIZA    BEG.      401 

grandeur,  the  news  came  that  Mehemct  Eiza  Beg  had 
disembarked  at  Marseilles. 

Great  news  for  Versailles  was  the  ambassador's  arrival ! 
The  old  king,  grievously  tormented  by  his  circle  of 
bastards,  stricken  by  the  hand  of  God  in  the  persons  of 
his  sons  and  grandsons,  was  becoming  more  sullen  than 
ever,  so  much  so,  that  Madame  de  Maintenon,  although  a 
woman  of  resources,  complained  to  her  confidantes  of 
the  terrible  task  she  had  undertaken  of  amusing  a  man 
the  most  difficult  to  amuse  of  all,  not  only  in  France 
and  Navarre,  but  in  the  whole  of  Europe. 

Mehemet  Riza  Beg  was  coming,  then,  it  would 
appear,  in  the  very  nick  of  time  to  galvanize,  as  we 
nowadays  say,  the  great  sepulchre,  as  Versailles  was 
called,  and  the  great  cadaver,  as  they  called  Louis  XIV. 

Also  there  were  people  who  said  under  their  breaths 
that  Mehemet  Riza  Beg  was  not  an  ambassador  of 
Hussein,  the  Shah  of  Persia,  but  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  the  anonymous  queen  of  France. 

However  that  might  have  been,  and  whencesoever 
he  may  have  come,  Mehemet  Riza  Beg  had  been 
received  with  great  pomp.  It  was  barely  learned  that 
he  had  landed  at  Marseilles,  when  the  king  sent 
Monsieur  de  Saint-Olon,  his  ambassador,  to  the  King 
of  Morocco,  to  receive  him.  In  fact,  the  honors  due  to 
special  envoys  were  rendered  to  Mehemet  Riza  Beg, 
who  reached  Charenton  on  the  twenty -sixth  of  January, 
made  his  entry  into  the  capital  on  the  seventh  of  the 
following  February,  and  was  admitted  to  a  formal 
audience  on  the  nineteenth  of  the  same  month. 

Now,  as  we  have  intimated,  the  ambassador  was  the 
lion  of  the  day.  Nothing  was  talked  of  but  his 
grandeur,  his  peculiarities,  and  the  anxiety  to  which 
his  capricious  whims  subjected  the  Baron  de  Breteuil, 

26 


402  SYLVANDIIIE. 

commissioned  by  the  giciit  king  to  entertain  this  envoy 
doubly-extraordinary  sent  him  by  his  brotlier,  the 
Shah  of  Persia. 

It  was  therefore  quite  natural  that,  having  seen 
Paris  and  Versailles,  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie  and  his 
daugliter  should  request  to  see  the  ambassador. 

Eoger,  who  was  growing  more  cheerful  with  the 
approach  of  his  new  happiness,  saw  no  reason  for  deny- 
ing his  fiancee  a  gratification  so  small. 

Consequently,  as  the  nuptial  blessing  was  to  be 
pronounced  at  noon,  and  as  nothing  is  more  tedious  to  a 
newly  married  couple  than  the  wedding  day,  during 
which  they  are  obliged  to  receive  the  congratulations  of 
parents  and  friends,  it  was  decided  to  make  the  pro- 
posed visit  to  the  said  ambassador  between  the  ceremony 
and  the  dinner. 

The  twenty-sixth  of  February  was  the  day  appointed 
for  the  union  of  Constance  and  the  chevalier.  By 
hardily  confronting  that  moment  so  solemn  to  all,  and 
so  terrible  to  him,  Eoger  had  ended,  not  by  forgetting 
the  position  in  which  this  second  marriage  was  placing 
him,  but  by  disregarding  it. 

In  brief,  he  was  like  one  who  had  offered  his  life  as 
a  sacrifice,  who  knew  that  at  any  moment  it  might  be 
taken,  but  who,  meanwhile,  was  resolved  to  enjoy  to 
the  utmost  the  days  that  were  left. 

Since  morning  Roger  had  surrendered  to  the  intoxi- 
cating delight  of  beholding  Constance  again.  In  gaz- 
ing upon  her  all  else  was  forgotten. 

On  emerging  from  Saint  Roch,  where  the  marriage 
had  been  celebrated,  her  attendants  escorted  Constance 
to  her  apartments  for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  her 
bridal  attire,  and  Roger  and  Crette  took  their  way  to  the 
Hdtel  des  Ambassadeurs,  where  Mehemet  Riza  Beg  was 


THE   CHEVALIER   VISITS   MEHEMET   RIZA   BEG.      403 

installed  in  state.  Gentlemen,  as  we  have  said,  were 
received  in  the  morning,  and  ladies  in  the  afternoon. 

The  Marquis  de  Crettd  was  acquainted  with  the 
Baron  de  Breteuil,  and  had  secured  letters  from  him. 

Thanks  to  their  letters,  they  were  at  once  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  His  Excellency.  There  was  a 
throng  of  visitors,  and  they  passed  in  groups  of  four  in 
front  of  the  ambassador,  who,  seated  on  a  mat  in  the 
middle  of  his  salon,  gravely  bowed  as  they  passed.  The 
names  of  the  visitors  were  announced  as  they  were 
successively  admitted. 

When  the  turn  of  the  friends  came,  the  INIarquis  de 
Crette  and  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem  were  announced 
as  the  others  had  been. 

Riza  Beg  was  at  that  moment  engaged  in  smoking,  or 
rather,  a  slave,  kneeling  before  him,  was  in  the  act  of 
lighting  his  pipe. 

Roger  observed  that  the  slave,  whose  back  alone 
could  be  seen,  had  a  comely  figure. 

On  hearing  the  names  of  the  Marquis  de  Crette  and 
the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem,  the  ambassador  started, 
and  the  slave  turned. 

Having  already  advanced  four  steps  into  the  room, 
the  two  gentlemen  stopped  short  and  looked  at  each 
other,  pale  and  motionless,  as  if  the  slave's  face,  like 
the  head  of  Medusa,  had  turned  them  to  stone;  and 
then,  after  a  moment  of  bewilderment,  they  took  one 
another  by  the  hand,  saluted,  and  withdrew  backward 
out  of  the  salon,  without  having  even  glanced  at  the 
ambassador. 

"0  Roger!"  exclaimed  the  marquis,  on  reaching 
the  antechamber,  "  what  a  resemblance !  " 

"Crette,"  replied  d'Anguilhem,  "it  is  no  resem- 
blance.    It  is  Sylvandire  herself,  and  I  am  lost!  " 


404  SYLVANDIRE. 

Then,  in  few  words,  he  related  his  story  to  the 
marquis.  However,  he  had  left  himself  but  little  to 
tell.  During  the  night  of  his  delirium  he  had  revealed 
nearly  everything. 

"  In  that  case, "  cried  Crette,  "  you  must  flee  at  once. 
Quickly  secure  all  your  gold  and  diamonds,  and  start 
for  Flanders,  Holland,  or  England.  Go  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth ,  but  go  at  once. " 

Roger  did  not  move  from  the  spot. 

"  But  how  does  she  happen  to  be  with  this  beast  of 
an  ambassador?"  said  Crette. 

"  Who  can  fathom  God's  designs  ?  "  gloomily  returned 
Roger. 

"Come,  come!"  cried  the  marquis,  hurrying  him 
along.  "  No  theology.  Don't  lose  a  second.  Send 
for  post-horses,  get  a  carriage,  and  be  off  !  " 

"  Without  Constance  ?     Never  !  never  !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  friend,  do  you  know  to  what  you  are 
exposing  yourself  1  " 

"To  death,  I  know;  but  what  matters  death,  pro- 
vided I  do  not  die  until  to-morrow  1  " 

"  Permit  me  to  say  that  your  reasoning  is  perfectly 
absurd.  To-morrow,  my  dear  friend,  you  will,  I  hope, 
have  still  less  desire  to  die  than  you  have  to-day.  You 
must  live,  morbleu  f  and  live  a  long  time.  So  leave 
to-day,  this  very  instant.  Only  tell  me  where  you  are 
going,  and  to-morrow  or  to-night  I  will  send  you  your 
wife.  I  will  take  her,  if  necessary,  to  you  wherever 
you  are,  and  once  together,  you  will  forget  the  am- 
bassador. You  will  forget  Sylvandire;  you  will 
forget  the  universe." 

"  No,  Crette,  no.  Abandon  me;  you  see,  indeed,  that 
I  bring  only  misfortune !  " 

"Oh!    if  you  lose   your   head,    chevalier,   that   will 


THE   CHEVALIER   VISITS   MEIIEMET   RIZA   BEG.      405 

really  be  past  endurance.  Why,  do  j'ou  wish  to  be  the 
laughing-stock  of  all  France  ?  Do  you  wish  —  Diahle  ! 
bear  in  mind  the  gallows  of  Monsieur  de  Pourceaugnac. 
Ajiropos ,  was  that  the  reason  —  " 

"  Alas  !  yes,  my  friend." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  But  I  urge  you  again  to  make  up 
your  mind,  Eoger.  Peste  !  the  king  makes  no  joke 
of  morals.  Remember  For-1'Eveque,  the  Bastile, 
Chalon-sur-Saone.  Fifteen  months'  imprisonment  for 
neglecting  your  wife.  Then  what  would  it  be  for 
selling  her  ?  " 

Arguing  thus,  they  arrived  at  the  Hotel  d'Anguil- 
hem.  Constance  had  gone  with  the  baroness  and  her 
young  friends  to  pay  her  call  at  the  ambassador's. 

Crette  profited  by  the  opportunity  to  urge  Roger  to 
action.  Roger  had  nearly  thirty  thousand  francs  in 
his  cofi'er,  and  diamonds  to  the  vakie  of  two  hundred 
thousand  francs.  It  was  more  than  enough  for  im- 
mediate needs.  He  had  therefore  almost  decided  to 
flee,  when  all  the  ladies  returned.  In  consequence  of 
one  of  Mehemet  Riza  Beg's  caprices,  the  doors  of  the 
Hotel  des  Ambassadeurs  had  been  suddenly  closed, 
and  the  reception  postponed  until  five  o'clock  in  the 
evening. 

The  sight  of  Constance  produced  its  efi"ect.  Roger 
possessed  neither  the  strength  to  fly,  nor  the  courage  to 
reveal  the  situation.  Dinner  was  announced.  Mechani- 
cally, Roger  followed  his  guests  and  took  his  place  at 
the  table  in  such  a  state  of  preoccupation  that  it  was 
observed  by  all. 

But,  on  his  wedding  day  the  head  of  a  newly-married 
man  may  be  a  prey  to  thoughts  of  such  conflicting  nature 
that  none  would  be  indiscreet  enough  to  ask  him  of 
what  he  was  thinking.     Yet  from  time  to  time  Constance 


406  SYLVANDIRE. 

regarded  liim  with  misgiving,  and  at  the  least  sotiiid 
d'Anguilhom  and  Crctte  would  give  a  start  and  turn 
their  eyes  upon  tlie  door. 

In  this  manner  the  dessert  was  reached.  Roger  and 
Crette  began  to  be  somewhat  reassured.  Roger  smiled 
upon  his  bride,  and  his  smile  was  life  to  her.  With 
the  charming  high-bred  manner  that  so  few  people  have 
preserved  in  these  days,  Crette  was  telling  some  of  the 
anecdotes  that  no  one  dares  tell  any  more,  when  sud- 
denly a  hideous  looking  negro  boy  entered  and  asked  for 
Monsieur  le  Baron  d'Anguilhem. 

Monsieur  d'Anguilhem^ere  had  already  risen,  when 
Roger,  comprehending  that  he  was  the  one  to  whom 
the  summons  was  addressed,  made  a  sign  to  his  father 
to  be  seated  again,  and,  with  blanched  countenance,  he 
himself  followed  the  negro. 

Without  strength  to  ask  his  guide  a  single  question, 
Roger  descended  the  stairs.  Besides,  if  any  doubt  had 
remained  to  him,  the  matter  would  have  been  promptly 
explained.  In  the  centre  of  the  court  he  saw  a  two- 
seated  chaise,  and  in  the  chaise,  on  the  farther  side, 
sat  the  young  slave  that  he  had  recognized  in  the 
morning,  and  whose  recognition  had  given  him  such  a 
terrible  turn. 

The  slave  made  a  sign  for  Roger  to  enter  the  chaise 
and  take  the  opposite  seat. 

Roger  obeyed  without  a  word,  and  sat  down  before 
her.  The  husband  and  wife  of  other  days  confronted 
each  other. 

"  At  last,  dear  Roger,"  said  Sylvandire,  "  after  many 
difficulties,  I  see  you  again,  thank  God!  " 

Roger  bowed. 

"You  did  not  count  on  me  as  a  guest  to-day,  did 
you?  "  proceeded  Sylvandire,  deriving  from  Roger  the 


THE   CHEVALIER   VISITS   MEHEMET   EIZA   BEG.      407 

same  pleasure  that  a  cat  has  in  pLaying  with  a  mouse 
before  eating  it. 

"  No,  I  confess  I  did  not, "  returned  Roger. 

"  No.  You  thought  me  at  Constantinople,  at  Cairo, 
or  at  Tripoli  at  the  very  least.  But  I  loved  you  so 
much,  my  dear,  that  I  could  not  endure  absence  from 
you,  and  I  eagerly  seized  upon  the  first  opportunity 
presenting  itself  to  return  to  Europe." 

"Excessively  kind,"  muttered  Roger. 

"But  how  has  my  love  been  rewarded?  I  come,  I 
inquire  about  you.  I  am  told  that  you  are  about  to 
take  another  wife,  and  that  to-day,  to-day  even,  you  are 
married;  but  understand  that  I  am  jealous,  —  ingrate  !  " 

Every  one  of  her  words  froze  poor  Roger.  Finally, 
after  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  Sylvandire  not 
once  took  her  eyes  from  his,  Roger  asked,  — 

"  But  what  do  you  wish  of  me  now  1  " 

"  I  wish  to  know  at  what  price  you  sold  me,  that  I 
may  add  the  sum  to  the  other  small  claims  that  I  have 
against  you. " 

"  3Ia  fol,"  said  Roger,  "all  things  considered,  I  was 
justified  in  selling  a  wife  that  had  caused  me  to  be 
imprisoned. " 

"  I  ought  to  have  done  worse  than  that,  miscreant 
that  you  are,"  answered  Sylvandire  in  purring  tones. 

"Had  me  killed,  perhaps?  Ah!  indeed,  madame, 
had  you  done  that,  you  would,  I  admit,  have  rendered 
me  a  valuable  service." 

"Listen,"  said  Sylvandire.  "A  truce  to  jesting, 
and  let  us  talk  business. " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  replied  Roger.  "But  I  swear 
that  for  my  part  I  am  neither  jesting  nor  in  the  least 
disposed  to  jest.  Therefore  speak  as  seriously  as  you 
will,  I  listen." 


408  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Roger, "  resumed  Sylvandire,  "  without  a  suspicion 
of  it,  you  liave  created  my  happiness.  I  became 
acquainted  with  Mehemet  Riza  Beg;  I  pleased  him, 
and  he  has  made  me  his  wife." 

"  What!  "  exclaimed  Koger  with  a  ray  of  hope,  "and 
you  too  are  married  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  in  the  Mohammedan  way,  which  does  very 
well  for  that  country,  but  which  would  certainly  be 
worth  nothing  here.  So  that  I  have  really  only  one 
husband,  Avhile  you  have  two  wives.  Now,  you  know, 
my  dear  husband,  polygamy  is  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Roger. 

"You  are,  therefore,  nicely  caught,  completely  in  my 
power,  for  I  waited  until  the  thing  was  done,  you 
understand ;  and  in  any  case,  even  though  you  had  not 
politely  come  and  made  me  a  call  this  morning,  you 
would  have  had  mine  this  evening." 

"  Why,  would  you  ruin  me  1  "  cried  Roger. 

"  Fool !  What  would  I  gain  by  ruining  you?  No, 
no,  dear  Roger.  In  the  first  place,  I  wish  you  to  give 
me  the  hundred  thousand  crowns  that  you  have  inherited 
from  my  poor  father." 

"  Oh !  as  to  that,"  cried  Roger,  "  it  is  no  more  than 
just,  and  I  have  kept  the  sum  in  bonds  payable  to 
bearer,   all  ready  to  be  sent  to  you." 

And  Roger  moved  as  if  to  descend  from  the  carriage 
and  go  for  his  portfolio. 

But  Sylvandire  checked  him. 

"Not  so  fast,  now,  not  so  fast,"  said  Sylvandire. 
"  Oh  !  that  is  not  all.  You  are  not  to  be  let  off  so 
cheaply. " 

"  I  am  waiting, "  said  Roger. 

"  Next,  the  one  hundred  thousand  crowns  of  my 
dot." 


THE   CHEVALIER   VISITS   MEHEMET   PJZA   BEG.      409 

"  What !  your  dot  ?  You  know  very  well  that  I 
never  received  any  one  hundred  thousand  crowns." 

"  I  know  that  sum  is  specified  in  my  marriage  con- 
tract, and  that  I  must  not  wrong  my  second  husband, 
whose  behavior,  you  will  acknowledge,  has  been  very 
different  from  yours,  since  he  bought  me,  and  you  — 
you  sold  me." 

"Very  well, "said  Roger,  "  as  you  will,  the  one  hun- 
dred thousand  crowns  shall  be  yours. " 

"Next,"  began  Sylvandire. 

"  What !  "  cried  Eogcr,  "  is  there  anything  more  1  " 

"  Certainly,  there  is  the  price  of  my  person,  Diable! 
my  dear  Roger,  if  not  of  age,  I  was  at  least  emancipated, 
and  I  owned  an  interest  in  myself.  I  am  not  a  lawyer's 
daughter  for  nothing." 

"As  to  that,"  said  Roger,  "  I  can  give  you  my  word 
of  honor  that  I  did  not  receive  a  sou,  and  I  even  —  I 
even  —  well,  I  gave  five  hundred  pistoles  to  boot." 

"Oh!  it  is  ungallant  of  you  to  tell  me  that,  mon- 
sieur," coquettishly  protested  Sylvandire.  "  But  as  you 
are  a  man  of  honor,  and  as  you  give  me  your  word,  I 
believe  you.  So,  if  you  like,  it  shall  be  six  hundred 
thousand  livres." 

"  When  do  you  wish  the  money  1  "  asked  Roger. 

"  I  had  a  great  mind,  however,"  continued  Sylvandire, 
without  replying  to  the  question,  "I  had  a  great  mind 
to  appear  in  the  salon  in  place  of  staying  in  the  court, 
and  be  suddenly  announced  by  the  faithful  Breton. 
You  still  have  Breton  ?  " 

Roger  bowed  affirmatively. 

"And  have  the  faithful  Breton  suddenly  announce 
Madame  d'Anguilhem,  just  to  see  your  look  of  con- 
sternation at  finding  yourself  between  your  two  wives, 
Turk  that  you  are  !     But  I  preferred  other  satisfaction. 


410  SYLVANDIKE. 

As  I  said,  give  me  six  liunclrcd  thousand  livres,  and 
then  we  shall   see." 

"  Where  do  you  wish  me  to  send  tliis  sum  ?  "  asked 
Eoger. 

"To  the  embassy,"  replied  Sylvandire.  "Ask  for 
the  favorite  slave  of  His  Excellency,  Mehemet  Eiza 
Beg.  I  shall  know  what  that  means,  and  will  respond 
to  the  call." 

"  And  when  must  you  have  the  six  hundred  thousand 
livres?  "  demanded  E,oger,  repeating  the  question  that 
had  remained  unanswered. 

"  In  two  hours. " 

"  In  two  hours  !  "  exclaimed  Roger,  "  Why,  you 
might  as  well  ask  me  at  once  to  blow  out  my  brains. 
How  do  you  expect  me  to  get  one  hundred  thousand 
crowns  togetlier  in  two  hours  t  " 

"  Why,  you  have  diamonds,  sell  them.  You  have 
friends,  draw  on  their  purses.  I  am  sorry  to  seem  so 
unreasonable,  but  we  are  leaving  very  shortly,  my  dear 
Roger.  His  Excellency,  Mehemet  Riza  Beg,  has 
remained  solely  at  my  request  that  he  would  wait  until 
your  marriage  was  solemnized." 

"  In  two  hours !  in  two  hours  !  "  cried  Roger.  "  Why 
it  is  impossible.  Wait  at  least  until  to-morrow 
morning. " 

"  I  will  not  wait  a  moment." 

"Then  do  your  worst." 

"  My  worst,  oh  !  mon  Dieu,  that  is  simple  enough. 
I  will  enter  the  hdtel,  go  to  your  room,  get  into  bed, 
and  wait  till  you  come.  Angola,"  pursued  Sylvandire, 
addressing  the  negro,  and  making  a  movement  as  if  to 
get  out,  "  open  the  door,  I  wish  to  descend." 

The  negro  grasped  the  door-knob.  Roger  detained 
Sylvandire. 


THE    CHEVALIER    VISITS    MEHEMET   KIZA   BEG.      411 

"But  think  of  the  consequences." 

"  There  are  no  consequences,  save  only  for  you. 
Mehemet  has  no  chiim  on  me  but  that  of  having  bought 
me.  Now,  I  suspect  that  such  a  sale  is  decidedly 
illegal  in  France.  Besides,  it  was  you  that  sold  me. 
It  would  come  with  a  bad  grace  for  you  to  reproach  me 
with  what  happened  while  I  was  in  the  hands  of  my 
owner." 

"  But,  madame  —  " 

"  Listen, "  said  Sylvandire.  "  I  have  said  that  I 
would  give  you  two  hours,  and,  as  I  am  as  good  as  my 
word,  I  still  grant  them;  but  if,  in  two  hours  —  heed 
me  well  —  " 

"  Oh!  1  am  not  losing  a  word,"  returned  Eoger  with 
a  sigh. 

"  If  in  two  hours  the  six  hundred  thousand  livres  have 
not  reached  the  hotel  of  the  embassy  —  " 

"  Well  ?  "  demanded  Roger,  anxiously. 

"Well,  dear  Koger,"  replied  Sylvandire,  "  expect  to 
hear  Madame  Eoger  d'Anguilhem  announced,  and  to 
see  me  appear." 

So  saying,  Sylvandire  dismissed  her  husband  with  a 
captivating  little  nod  and  an  adorable  smile.  Then, 
at  a  sign  from  his  mistress,  the  negro  opened  the 
carriage  door,  and  Eoger  alighted. 

The  carriage  immediately  began  to  move  away;  but 
as  far  as  the  grand  entrance,  Sylvandire,  her  head 
entirely  out  of  the  window,  continued  waving  her 
hand  to  Eoger. 


412  SYLVANDIRE. 


XXX. 

now  THE  MARQUIS  DE  CRKTTE  NEGOTIATED  MATTERS 
IN  THE  NAME  OF  THE  CHEVALIER  d'AXGUILHEM, 
AND  BROUGHT  THIS  ENTIRE  STORY  TO  A  MOST 
UNEXPECTED    ISSUE. 

KoGER  found  Crette  waiting  for  him  at  the  foot  of  the 
staircase. 

"  Well  ?  "  interrogated  the  marquis. 

"  Well,  my  friend,  it  was  she  !  " 

"  I  suspected  as  much.  What  does  she  want  1  What 
does  she  demand  1  " 

"  An  impossibility. " 

"But  what?" 

"  Six  hundred  thousand  livres  in  two  hours." 

"  Six  hundred  thousand  livres  in  two  hours!  "  repeated 
Crette,  "  excellent !  " 

"  Excellent !  what  do  you  mean  1  Why  I  have  only 
three  hundred  thousand  livres  in  hand,  and,  in  two  hours 
from  now,  if  I  have  not  found  three  hundred  thousand 
more,    which  is  impossible  —  " 

"  Well,  if  you  have  not  the  other  three  hundred  thou- 
sand, what  then  ?  " 

"  She  will  come  to  the  h6tel  and  have  herself  publicly 
announced  as  Madame  Roger  d'Anguilhem." 

"  She  will  not  do  it." 

"  Why  1  " 

"  I  don't  know  why ;  but  if  she  could  do  it  she  would 
have  done  it." 


THE   MARQUIS   DE   CRETT^   NEGOTIATES.         413 

"Ah!  my  friend." 

"Listen,  Koger:  when  people  demand  money  and  fail 
to  take  their  rights,  they  are  in  hiding;  there  is  some- 
thing back  of  it  all." 

"  But,  my  friend,  she  is  not  in  hiding,  since  she  tells 
me  that  in  two  hours  she  will  announce  herself  in  my 
house  as  my  wife." 

"Yes,  I  know,  it  is  alarming.'* 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  shall  go  to  my  room  and  blow  my 
brains  out." 

"There  is  time  enough  for  that  yet;  leave  things 
to  me." 

"  But  what  can  you  do  1  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  but  I  shall  try  to  save  you." 

"  Oh !  my  dear  Crette,  my  only  friend  !  "  cried  Roger, 
casting  his  arms  around  the  marquis'  neck. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand  all  that,"  returned  Crette; 
"  but  we  must  not  waste  our  time  weeping  in  each  other's 
arms. " 

"  Wliat  must  I  do  ?  I  place  myself  in  your  hands ; 
command  and  I  will  obey." 

"  Detain  your  guests  in  the  salon ;  it  is  only  half -past 
eight,  that  will  be  an  easy  matter,  therefore.  Look  as 
cheerful  as  you  can,  • —  I  will  not  be  too  exacting,  poor 
fellow.  Prevent  any  one's  entering  the  salon  without 
Breton's  knowledge. " 

"  I  will  station  him  at  the  door. " 

"  Now,  give  me  the  three  hundred  thousand  livres  that 
are  payable  to  bearer,  all  your  jewels,  and  the  cash  that 
you  have.  I  will  go  to  my  notary  and  drain  his  purse. 
The  devil  is  in  it  if  we  do  not  get  the  requisite  sixm." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Crette,  get  me  the  money,  sell  everything, 
save  me." 

And  Roger  ascended  the  stairs  with  his  friend,  got  the 


414  SYLVANDIRE. 

three  liundrcd  thnuf^and  livres,  went  witli  liim  to  Con- 
stance's chamber  and  took  all  tlie  diamonds  that  he  had 
given  to  liis  wife.  Then,  Crette,  leaping  into  the  carriage 
which  had  been  ordered  in  the  meantime,  dashed  away 
with  his  horses  at  full  speed. 

Eoger  went  back  to  the  salon,  and  as  Crette  had 
directed,  he  put  on  as  good  a  face  as  he  was  al)le. 

Meanwhile,  Crette  hastened  home  antl  secured  twentj'- 
five  thousand  livres;  he  proceeded  thence  to  his  notar}', 
who  gave  him  fifty  thousand.  These  sums,  with  the 
thirty  thousand  livres  in  cash  that  Eoger  had  given  him, 
and  the  diamonds  rated  at  their  inventory  value,  almost 
made  up  the  six  hundred  thoiisand  livres  demanded. 

All  this  chasing  about  had  consumed  an  hour  and  a 
half.      Hence  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

On  leaving  his  notary,  Crette  gave  orders  to  proceed  to 
the  Hotel  des  Ambassadeurs. 

Five  minutes  later,  he  alighted  at  the  door. 

He  ascended  the  stairs.  Thanks  to  the  cliange  made  in 
the  hour  of  their  reception,  the  ladies  were  descending. 

He  encountered  Mademoiselle  Poussette,  who  had  just 
made  her  call,  and,  who,  with  peals  of  laughter,  was 
returning  to  her  carriage. 

Crette,  fearing  that  she  would  cause  him  to  lose  valu- 
able time,  endeavored  to  avoid  her,  but  it  was  not  to  be 
done.  Mademoiselle  Poussette  had  seen  him;  overcome 
with  laughter  she  permitted  herself  to  sink  into  his  arms. 

"  Well !  let  us  hear  what  has  happened,  "  demanded 
Crette.      "  Why  are  you  laughing  so,  mademoiselle  1  " 

"  Ah !  my  dear  marquis, "  cried  Mademoiselle  Pous- 
sette, "  the  queerest  adventure,  the  most  unheard-of, 
most  unexpected,  most  mythological,  most  fabulous !  " 

"  3Ion  Dieu !  "  thought  Crette,  "  can  she  by  any 
chance  have  recognized  Sylvandire  1  " 


THE   MAEQUIS   DE   CEETT^   NEGOTIATES.        415 

"  An  adventure  such  as  one  meets  with  in  stories,  in 
fairy-tales,  in  tlie  'Arabian  Nights,'  an  adventure  that 
you  will  not  believe." 

"  Certainly,  certainly !  "  cried  Crette,  "  of  course  I  shall 
believe  you ;  but  talk  fast,  my  love,  as  I  am  pressed  for 
time." 

"  You  are  going  up  to  the  ambassador  1  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  look  at  him  well  and  squarely  in  the  face,  as  I 
am  looking  at  you  this  moment;  in  imagination,  divest 
him  of  his  beard,  of  his  mustache,  and  then  come  to  see 
me  to-morrow  morning,  that  is  all  I  have  to  say;  or  this 
very  evening,  if  you  prefer  it,  monsieur  le  marquis," 
added  she,  with  a  little  squeeze  of  the  hand  and  a  most 
gracious  smile. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Crette,  "  I  am  to  look  the  ambas- 
sador well  and  squarely  in  the  face,  divest  him  of  beard 
and  mustache  1  Poussette,  my  dear  friend,  do  you 
happen  to  know  the  ambassador  ?  " 

"  Do  I  know  him  !  —  as  well  as  I  know  you,  as  well 
as  I  know  d'Herbigny,  as  well  as  I  know  Chastellux,  as 
well  as  I  should  probably  have  known  your  friend  Roger, 
had  he  not  always  proved  cruel." 

"  Poussette,  my  dear  child, "  cried  the  marquis,  "  you 
can  save  my  life." 

"  Your  life,  marquis  1  " 

"  No,  not  exactly  mine,  but  my  best  friend's  which  is 
absolutely  the  same  thing  —  Roger's." 

"  What  must  I  do  1" 

"Who  is  this  ambassador?  His  name,  Poussette,  his 
name  !  Twenty  thousand  livres  and  the  good  graces  of 
the  handsomest  gentleman  in  Paris.  I  pledge  my  word 
for  him;  if  he  fails  to  pay,  I  will  pay.  Poussette,  my 
dear  girl,  what  is  the  ambassador's  name  ?  " 


416  SYLVANDIRE. 

"  Ah !  for  shame !  you  think  me  selfish,  marquis,  you 
deserve  indeed  —  " 

"  His  name,  Poussette  !  and  by  midnight  I  will  bring 
you  the  twenty  thousand  livres;  expect  me." 

"  Well,  marquis,  it  is  —  you  will  never  believe  it. " 

"  Go  on.     I  invariably  believe  what  women  tell  me." 

"  It  is  —  " 

"  Poussette,  you  torture  me !  " 

"Well,  it  is  the  Indian." 

"  What  Indian  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  Indian,  you  know,  my  yellow  lover. " 

"  Roger's  opponent  ?  that  man  of  the  lawsuit  ? 
Afghano  1  "    cried  the  marquis. 

"  Himself." 

"  Ah !  Poussette  of  my  heart,  come  to  my  arms !  " 

And,  heedless  of  being  seen  by  the  people  that  con- 
tinued to  descend  from  the  ambassador's,  Crette  folded  the 
demoiselle  to  his  heart. 

"  But  are  you  quite  positive  1  "  continued  he,  unable 
to  credit  such  good  news. 

"  I  tell  you  that  I  recognized  him  in  spite  of  the  beard 
that  he  has  grown,  in  spite  of  his  blackened  teeth,  in 
spite  of  his  pink-tinted  nails,  and  yet  the  monster  made 
believe  not  to  see  me !  Ah !  marquis,  marquis,  how 
ungrateful  men  are!  " 

"  My  dear  Poussette, "  said  Crette,  "  I  will  be  proof  to 
the  contrary.  I  shall  be  with  you  at  midnight;  expect 
me  to  supper." 

"  And  if  Chastellux  comes  1  " 

"  You  Avill  say  that  you  have  a  headache." 

"How  you  arrange  things,  monsieur  le  marquis!" 
exclaimed  Mademoiselle  Poussette,  endeavoring  to  blush. 

"  Not  so  well  as  you,  I  know,  my  Venus ;  besides,  I 
rely  entirely  on  your  sagacity.     Adieu,  Poussette,  and  if 


THE   MARQUIS   DE   CRETTlfi   NEGOTIATES.        417 

you  liave  told  the  truth,  well,  you  have  rendered  me  a 
service  that  I  will  never  in  my  life  forget." 

Mademoiselle  Poussette  regained  her  carriage,  and 
Crette  mounted  the  stairs  four  steps  at  a  time.  At  the 
ambassador's  door  he  was  stopped  by  the  negro. 

"What  do  you  want?"  said  he.  "His  Excellency's 
reception  for  gentlemen  is  over." 

"  I  am  not  seeking  His  Excellency, "  returned  Crette, 
"  but  his  favorite  slave. " 

"  Then  you  come  —  " 

"  On  behalf  of  the  Chevalier  d'Anguilhem." 

"  In  that  case,  enter." 

And  the  negro  ushered  Crette  into  a  room  furnished  in 
the  style  of  the  Orient;  then,  saying  that  he  would  ac- 
quaint the  person  whom  the  marquis  sought  he  left  him. 

And  five  minutes  later  Sylvandire  entered. 

"  Ah !  it  is  you,  monsieur  le  marquis, "  said  Sylvan- 
dire.  "  I  had  a  presentiment  that  I  was  about  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  again.  My  presentiment 
was  not  at  fault.  Have  you  the  six  hundred  thousand 
livres  1  " 

"  No, "  boldly  answered  the  marquis. 

"  Then  why  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  To  speak  with  your  master,  His  Excellency  Mehemet 
Eiza  Beg." 

"  From  M'hom,  seigneur  1  "  asked  Sylvandire,  lightly. 

"  From  Monsieur  Voyer  d'Argenson,  lieutenant  of  the 
police  of  the  realm." 

Sylvandire  paled;  Crette  noted  the  effect  of  his 
words. 

"  His  Excellency  cannot  receive  at  present ;  he  is  in 
bed." 

"Well,"  said  Crette,  "I  will  go  and  find  some  one 
that  will  make  him  get  up." 

27 


418  SYLVANDIRE. 

"Stay,"  said  Sylvandire.  "I  will  see  if  His  Excel- 
lency is  visible." 

"  Pardon,  fair  lady, "  said  Crette,  "  but  I  have  reasons 
of  my  own  for  Avishing  to  accompany  you,  otherwise  —  " 

He  made  a  step  toward  the  door. 

"  Come  with  me, "  said  Sylvandire. 

And  she  opened  a  door  that  led  into  a  corridor. 

The  marquis  followed,  and  with  her  penetrated  to  the 
salon  of  the  ambassador,  who,  seated  on  his  mat,  assumed 
an  air  of  lordly  consequence  that  was  ridiculous  in  the 
extreme. 

"  Wait, "  said  Sylvandire,  "  I  will  summon  the  inter- 
preter." 

"  It  is  quite  unnecessary, "  remarked  Crette. 

"  What !  do  you,  then,  know  Persian,  marquis  1  " 

"  No ;  but  His  Excellency  will  be  so  kind  as  to  speak 
French." 

"  He  has  no  knowledge  of  our  language." 

"  Do  you  think  so  1  "  said  Crette. 

Then,  approaching  the  ambassador  and  tapping  him  on 
the  shoulder,  he  said, — 

"  Am  I  not  right,  my  dear  Monsieur  Afghano,  in  sup- 
posing that,  in  my  case,  you  will  have  the  extreme  good- 
ness to  remember  that  you  speak  French  1  " 

The  ambassador  uncrossed  his  legs,  threw  back  one 
hand  as  a  support,  and,  with  blanched  face,  stared  at 
Crette. 

"  Oho !  "  said  Crette.  "  My  dear  monsieur,  had  I 
thought  the  face  of  an  old  acquaintance  could  produce 
this  effect,  I  would  have  instructed  madame  to  prepare 
you." 

"  What  do  you  wish,  monsieur?  "  said  the  Indian. 

"  There,  you  see,"  said  Crette  to  Sylvandire.  "  I  told 
you  that  His  Excellency  would  make  an  exception  in  my 


THE    MARQUIS    DE    CIIETTE   NEGOTIATES.         419 

favor !  I  wish,  dear  Monsieur  Afghano, "  resumed  Crette, 
again  turning  to  the  false  ambassador,  "  to  notify  you  that 
within  one  hour  a  warning  will  have  been  sent  to  the 
king  whom  you  have  mystified,  that  lie  has  been  made 
your  dupe." 

The  Indian  became  livid,  and  his  liand  stole  toward 
his  poniard. 

"  There  1  there  !  "  said  Crette,  "  no  tragedy,  I  beg, 
dear  Monsieur  Afghano,  it  would  be  useless ;  for  I  warn 
you  that  I  am  seconded  by  one  who  knows  your  whole 
history,  and  who  will  in  one  hour  start  for  Versailles,  if 
in  that  time  I  do  not  return  to  the  hotel.  However,  my 
dear  friend,  don't  let  that  hinder  you;  kill  me  if  you 
like.  I  have  never  been  able  to  distinguish  myself,  and 
by  such  a  death  I  should  be  almost  immortalized.  The 
Marquis  de  Crette  killed  by  His  Excellency,  Mehemet 
Kiza  Beg,  Ambassador  Extraordinary  of  His  Most  Sub- 
lime Majesty,  the  Shah  of  Persia.  Dlahle  !  I  should  be 
in  great  luck.  But  no :  you  \a.j  your  Aveapons  aside  ;  you 
return  to  more  pacific  ideas.  Well,  so  be  it,  I  am  myself 
a  good-natured  fellow;  whatever  suits  you  suits  me.  Let 
us  talk  business." 

The  ambassador  arose  and  went  himself  to  bolt  the 
door. 

"  Yes,  I  understand, "  continued  Crette.  "  You  pur- 
chased madame,  and  you  have  a  good  bargain,  for  madame 
is  charming.  You  then  formed  each  other's  acquaintance, 
which  is  quite  natural;  on  acquaintance  you  discovered 
that  you  each  had  a  grievance  against  the  same  man, — 
against  poor  Eoger.  You  then  said:  'Very  well,  since 
we  have  a  hatred  in  common,  let  us  have  our  revenge  in 
common.'  Meanwhile,  the  report  reached  you  that  no 
one  could  any  longer  amuse  the  king,  and,  being  a  man 
of  inventive  turn,  you  improvised  this  embassy.     Bravo ! 


420  SYLVANDIRE. 

my  dear  fellow,  bravo!  There  was  everything  to  gain; 
you  pocketed  the  presents  that  His  Very  Christian  Ma- 
jesty had  the  kindness  to  grant  you  in  exchange  for  the 
baubles  that  you  brought  liim  from  your  sovereign,  for 
whom,  by  the  way,  you  have  secured  the  reputation  of  a 
niggard.  As  for  my  lady,  her  thoughts  ran  something 
like  this :  '  I  sliall  make  him  surrender  my  father's  inheri- 
tance '  — which  is  just  —  *  and  my  dnt,^ —  which  is  much 
less  just,  since  madame  never  had  a  dot.  With  these 
ends  in  view,  you  come  to  Paris,  and  fortune  favors  you 
beyond  expectation.  You  learn  that  Monsieur  d'Anguil- 
hem  is  about  to  marry,  and  you  wait  until  the  marriage 
has  taken  place.  Then  when  the  deed  is  done,  when 
there  is  no  retreat,  you  immediately  begin  to  work  the 
gold  mine  that  has  just  been  opened  up  before  you.  And 
so,  you  at  first  extract  six  hundred  thousand  livres  through 
dread  of  the  rope  that  hangs  from  the  neck  of  a  bigamist. 
But  this  is  not  all :  after  this  demand  comes  another,  and 
this  other  is  followed  by  still  another.  During  your  en- 
tire life,  you  haunt  the  shadow  of  this  blessed  gibbet, 
fleecing  the  chevalier  until  the  inheritance  from  Monsieur 
Bouzenois  gradually  reverts  to  the  hands  of  Monsieur 
Afghano.  I  think  I  have  stated  the  case  accurately, 
have  I  not,  jVEonsieur  Afghano  1  have  I  not,  madame  ?  " 
continued  Crette,  alternately  casting  upon  each  a  glance 
that  was  half  of  amusement,  half  menace.  "  Didble  !  we 
are  French,  and,  consequently,  born  wicked,  says  Mon- 
sieur Boileau-Despreaux,  whom  madame  must  have  read 
in  her  youth." 

Sylvandire  and  Afghano  were  crushed,  and  they  cow- 
ered before  Crette  like  two  criminals  before  their  judge. 

"  Ah !  and  now, "  continued  Crette,  "  as  the  position 
of  each  is  clear,  the  chevalier  can  be  hanged  for  bigamy, 
Monsieur  Afghano  can  be  quartered  for  forgery,  Madame 


THE   MARQUIS   DE   CRETT^   NEGOTIATES.        421 

Sylvaudire  can  be  sent  to  Saint  Lazare  as  an  adventuress. 
Let  us  come  to  the  point. 

"  You  have  received  a  million,  or  thereabout,  from  the 
King  of  France,  my  dear  Monsieur  Afghano.  In  this 
portfolio  are  three  hundred  thousand  livres,  your  father's 
bequest,  my  dear  Dame  d'Anguilhera,  You,  Monsieur 
rindien,  have  nearly  two  million  of  your  own;  altogether 
that  makes,  according  to  my  reckoning,  three  million 
three  hundred  thousand  livres :  a  very  pretty  penny  with 
which  to  retire  to  Tripoli,  to  Constantinople,  to  Cairo,  to 
Ispahan,  to  Pekin,  to  any  place  you  wish,  in  short,  and 
to  lead  the  life  of  a  sultan  everywhere." 

"  Monsieur  le  marquis,"  said  Afghano,  "  I  swear  I  will 
start  to-morrow." 

"  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast !  I  intend  that  you  shall 
start;  but  on  two  slight  conditions  that  I  am  about  to 
name. " 

"  Speak,  monsieur,  I  listen." 

"  Monsieur,  do  you  swear  never  again  to  return  to 
Paris  ?  " 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  I  believe  you,  for  your  oath  is  vouched  for  by  your 
fear  of  discovery.  I  will  ask  no  other  security  than  your 
word,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  shall  never  see  you 
again. " 

The  Indian  inclined  his  head. 

"  But  that  is  not  the  case  with  madame.  Let  her  once 
be  separated  from  you,  let  you  once  go  away,  as  soon  as  I 
can  no  longer  prove  you  an  impostor  and  madame  your 
accomplice,  madame  might  any  day  be  seized  with  a  de- 
sire to  return  and  seat  herself  at  the  conjugal  fireside, 
which  would  embarrass  us  greatly,  since  at  this  fireside 
there  is  room  only  for  two.  Therefore  I  shall  not  leave 
myself  at  the  mercy  of  madame's  word.     Madame  shall 


422  SYLVANDIRE. 

give  mc  a  little  letter,  which  I  will  dictate  myself,  and, 
when  I  have  that  letter  in  my  hands,  why,  madame  may 
follow  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

Sylvandire  rebelled. 

"  You  must, "  said  Crette.  "  It  is  hard,  I  admit,  to 
have  come  to  lay  down  the  law  and  to  have  it  dealt 
out  instead;   this  is  a  condition  sine  qua  no7i." 

"  And  if  I  refuse  1  " 

"  On  leaving  here,  I  shall  go  to  the  chief  of  police.  I 
shall  expose  your  little  fraud,  and  in  half  an  hour  you 
will  be  in  the  Bastile." 

"  But, "  said  Sylvandire,  "  we  are  not  friendless,  mon- 
sieur le  marquis ;  we  did  not  come  here  without  having 
taken  precautions.     We  have  powerful  allies." 

"  As  Monsieur  de  Royancourt  cannot  be  in  question, 
since  I  have  had  the  honor  to  run  my  sword  through  his 
body,  I  presume  that  you  have  reference  to  the  Jesuits." 

"  Possibly." 

"  Alas,  my  dear  Madame  d'Anguilhem,  although  you 
have  had  some  slight  association  with  those  gentlemen, 
you  do  not  yet  know  them.  You  would  compromise 
them  outrageously  by  making  use  of  their  name.  They 
are  not  simpletons,  they  would  sacrifice  you." 

"  It  is  true,  it  is  only  too  true !  "   murmured  Afghano. 

"  In  that  case, "  said  Sylvandire,  "  what  must  I  do  ?  " 

"  What  monsieur  le  marquis  exacts,  my  dear,  "  replied 
the  Indian;    "  believe  me,  it  is  our  wisest  plan." 

"  But,  if  I  give  you  this  letter,  Avill  you  swear  that  you 
will  let  us  and  our  money  leave  France  unmolested  ?  " 

"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  on  it,  I,  Alphonse, 
Marquis  de  Crette." 

"  I  am  ready,  monsieur, "  said  Sylvandire,  seating  her- 
self at  a  table  on  which  there  were  paper,  ink,  and.  pens. 
"Dictate;  I  will  write." 


THE   MARQUIS   DE   CRETT^  NEGOTIATES.       423 

Crette  dictated :  — 

"Tunis,  Oct.  11,  1713. 

"  Monsieur  d'Anguilhem,  —  Cease  grieving  for  my 
death,  for  I  am  told  that  yoiir  whole  life  is  wrecked.  I 
live.  Although  I  fell  into  the  sea,  although  I  seemed  to  be 
drowned,  it  was  a  subterfuge  to  rid  myself  of  the  dominion 
of  a  husband  whom,  despite  all  his  attentions,  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  love,  and  in  order,  at  last,  to  reach  the  arms 
of  the  man  whom  I  adore.  To-day,  monsieur,  under  other 
laws,  human  and  divine,  I  have  become  his  wife,  and  you 
will  never  see  me  again.  Dead  to  all,  I  wish  to  be  especially 
so  to  you.  Therefore,  from  this  day,  consider  yourself 
wholly  widowed  and  also  perfectly  free. 

"  And  now,  that  you  may  be  as  happy  as  I  am,  is  the  last 
wish  for  us  both  of  her  who  once  was 

"  Sylvandire,  dame  d'Anguilhem. 

"  P.  S.  This  letter  will  be  conveyed  to  you  by  a  trust- 
worthy man  whom  my  husband  is  despatching  to  France." 

"  How  can  this  letter  serve  you  ?  "  inquired  Sylvan- 
dire,  as  she  handed  it  to  the  marquis,  after  having 
addressed  and  sealed  it. 

"  That,  madame,  you  will  learn,  should  you,  failing  to 
keep  your  word,  ever  force  us  to  make  use  of  it." 

And,  bowing  to  Afghano  and  to  Sylvandire,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  door,  which  he  opened,  and  at  its  thresh- 
old said  to  the  ambassador,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
his  people,  — 

"  Deign,  Your  Excellency,  to  accept  my  sincere 
compliments." 

Afghano,  wholly  prostrated  by  the  scene  that  had 
just  taken  place,  remained  where  he  was.  But  Sylvan- 
dire  followed  Crette. 

"  Marquis, "  she  said,  in  a  low  voice  as  she  crossed  the 
antechamber  with  him,  "  tell  me  frankly,  is  his  wife 
pretty  1  " 


424  SYLVANDIKE. 

"  Not  so  pretty  as  you,  madame, "  replied  Crette,  "  but 
slie  loves  liiiii  more." 

"  What  would  you  have  1  "  retorted  Sylvandire.  "  I 
wished  to  be  a  princess." 

"Another  marriage  like  this  one,  madame,"  said 
Crette,  "  and  you  will  attain  your  end ;  you  are  already 
an  ambassadress." 

Sylvandire  gave  a  sigh,  and  slowly  regained  the  depths 
of  the  hotel. 


CONCLUSION.  42  i 


CONCLUSION. 

Crett:e  sprang  into  his  carriage,  the  horses  set  off  at  a 
run,  and  he  returned  to  the  Hotel  d'Anguilhem. 

He  found  Constance,  alone  and  desolate,  in  a  little 
salon,  weeping  to  find  her  husband  so  gloomy  and 
preoccupied. 

"  He  believed  himself  in  honor  bound  to  keep  his 
word, "  thought  she ;  "  but  most  assuredly  he  no  longer 
loves  me." 

"When  Crette  opened  the  door  she  thought  her  husband 
was  coming  to  seek  her,  and  she  quickly  sprang  forward 
to  meet  him;  but,  on  seeing  the  marquis,  she  dropped 
back  into  her  chair. 

Crette  understood  what  was  passing  in  the  mind  of  the 
poor  young  wife ;  he  went  up  to  her  reassuringly. 

"  Come,  come, "  said  he,  "  dry  your  beautiful  eyes, 
dear  lady,  and  let  us  return  together  to  the  salon.  In 
fifteen  minutes  Roger  will  be  himself  again,  and  I  can 
answer  for  your  future." 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  toAvard  the 
grand  salon. 

Breton  was  on  guard  at  the  door,  in  obedience  to  his 
orders. 

The  marquis  beckoned  to  him ;  Breton  came. 

"  My  good  fellow, "  said  Crette,  "  throw  open  both 
leaves  of  the  door,  and  in  your  most  pompous  tones 
announce  Madame  Roger  d'Anguilhem." 

Having  no  reason  for  preventing  the  entrance  of  his 
master's   wife   and    his   friend,    Breton   obeyed   on   the 


426  SYLVANDIRE. 

instant,  and,  inflating  his  lungs,  lie  swung  back  the  doors 
and  made  the  arches  echo  with  the  name  so  dreaded  by 
the  chevalier,  — 

"  Madame  Roger  d' Anguilhem !  " 

At  this  announcement,  Roger,  who,  in  the  farthest  corner 
of  the  room,  was  endeavoring  to  converse  with  d'Herbigny 
and  Monsieur  de  Beuzerie,  felt  his  legs  give  way  beneath 
him,  and  sinking  into  an  arm-chair,  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

Then,  with  a  radiant  smile  on  her  lips,  Constance 
entered,    leaning  on  Crette's  arm. 

They  advanced  toward  Roger,  who,  hearing  the 
sound  of  their  steps,  and  not  daring  to  look  up,  wished 
himself  a  hundred  feet  under  ground. 

"  Well,  my  friend,"  said  Crette,  as  he  clapped  his 
hand  on  the  other's  shoulder,  and  thereby  made  Roger 
shiver  to  the  very  marrow  of  his  bones,  "  what  is  the 
matter?     Here  is  Constance." 

"  Ah  !  Crette !  ah !  Constance, "  cried  he,  "  I  thought 
—  I  beg  pardon  !  " 

"You  thought  what?  Ah!  Madame  d'Anguilhem 
has  come  to  look  for  you,  and  you  are  afraid, "  said  the 
marquis,  taking  his  hand  and  slipping  Sylvandire's  letter 
into  it  at  the  same  time.  "  It  is  eleven  o'clock,  cheva- 
lier, take  away  your  wife." 

"  Yes !  yes  !  "  cried  Roger,  "  to  the  end  of  the  world, 
if  needs  be." 

"  No,  not  so  far,"  replied  Crette,"  that  is  useless  now." 

Then,  while  the  young  couple  were  crossing  the  salon 
on  the  way  to  their  apartment,  he  called  out,  — 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  The  Persian  ambassador 
leaves  to-morrow  with  all  his  suite.  I  propose,  messieurs 
and  mesdames,  that  we  see  them  off,  —  they  embark  at 
Chaillot." 


CONCLUSION.  427 

"  We  •will  not  go,  will  we  ?  "  said  Constance,  as  she 
opened  the  door  of  their  room, 

"  No,  indeed !  "  answered  Roger,  as  he  closed  it. 

The  next  day  Crette  informed  his  friend  of  his  two 
promises  to  Mademoiselle  Poussette,  the  first  of  which, 
the  payment  of  twenty  thousand  livres,  the  niarqnis  had 
scrupulously  kept  the  night  before. 

As  the  chevalier  was  a  man  of  honor,  and  incapable  of 
belying  his  friend's  word,  we  have  no  doubt  but  that  in 
due  place  and  season  the  second  promise  was  kept  with 
tlie  same  fidelity. 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  Roger  and  Constance  are  still 
quoted,  not  at  Paris,  where  great  examples  are  soon  lost, 
but  at  Loches  and  its  vicinity,  as  a  model  pair. 


THE    END. 


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